The Retrieval Job
by Lolita Wright
Summary: The newest Leverage client is someone from Eliot's past. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Leverage characters and world are, sadly, not mine. I'm not trying to infringe in anyway… I've just got to get this stuff out of my head before it starts keeping me up nights. (You know what I'm talking about, right?) I want to thank the creators and writers of the show for gifting us with such a wonderfully fun show. But honestly, did you have to make the Eliot character so darn adorable that I had to come out of fanfic retirement? sigh

**The Retrieval Job**

**Chapter One ~ Save Me**

"So we're going to Paris, then?" Parker asked.

"We're going to Paris," Nate nodded.

"I better get some time for shopping this time around," Sophie said with a theatrical snarl in Nate's direction.

As Eliot pushed away from the table, his cell phone vibrated against his hipbone. He pulled it free and looked at the display. Nothing but a scrambled mess of numbers and symbols. Eliot debated answering it as it vibrated again.

"Hardison, I thought you said this new toy would decode anything…" Eliot complained, holding the phone so Hardison could see.

Hardison sighed and walked toward him. "It's decrypting, not decoding, and…" Hardison stopped as he examined the phone. "Damn…! That's…!" Hardison grabbed the phone as it vibrated a third time and turned it over as if he would find some answer there. He shoved it back at Eliot. "Well, answer it! I've got to know who's topping my tech!"

Nate, Sophie, and Parker stared at him. Eliot shook his head slightly. "This can't be good."

"Just answer it!" Parker snapped.

Eliot grabbed the phone, flipped it open, thumbed the button, and put it to his ear. "Yeah?"

There was a brief pause, then a sharp intake of breath. A female voice murmured something so quietly he couldn't understand it. "You're gonna have to speak up, darlin'…"

During the following brief pause Eliot thought he heard the woman breathing hard as if she were running or…

The woman's voice came back a fraction louder, "Is this Atlas Towing?"

A ripple moved through his muscles and everybody in room noticed. His heart began to beat a little faster. Putting on his heaviest southern drawl he said, "Yes, ma'am, it is."

"I need a tow… my car… it won't start…"

Eliot listened desperately during the ensuing silence. He heard footsteps moving fast. But not high heels… in fact it sounded like she was barefoot. His palms started to sweat.

"We'd be glad to help, ma'am. Where is the car located?"

"A parking garage," she breathed, "… Michigan Ave and Randolph… it's a black Cadillac STS. Illinois plate Lucky 1. You got it?"

"Yes. Does the vehicle have onStar?" Eliot asked.

The only reply he got was a digital beep followed by a scraping noise. He wanted to yell out her name, but knew better.

"Eliot…?" Nate asked cautiously. Eliot met Nate's gaze for just a moment and the concern he saw there made him feel uncomfortable. Eliot slid his eyes up to the monitor just over Nate's shoulder.

Men's voices carried over his phone. Eliot realized she had put her phone on speaker. There was some shouting and then a gunshot. Eliot instinctively jerked the phone away from his ear. He felt the adrenaline burn into his blood stream.

"Okay! Okay!" He heard her voice and brought the phone it back up to his ear.

There were some scuffling noises and a man's voice. "Get down on your knees! Put your hands on your head!"

Eliot made his free hand into a fist.

"Did you really think you could get away that easy?" another man with a thick Irish brogue asked.

"I'm seriously surprised I didn't. It's not like I'm dealing with Mensa here…"

Eliot pulled the phone away and stared at it. "_Why do you do that?!_" he growled silently. When he put the phone back to his ear, he heard the distinctive sound of a fist making contact with flesh. He gritted his teeth, struggling against the mental image forming in his brain. For several moments, all he heard was the sound of punching, and he couldn't be sure but maybe some kicking. He listened carefully for any sounds from her, but she made none. They hadn't pushed her past her point of control.

"Give me one reason why we shouldn't kill you right here!" the one without the brogue said.

When she spoke, her voice was strained, "Because that would be morally wrong…? Oh, wait… wrong crowd…"

"We can't kill her because Mickey's not done with her… yet," the Irish accent said.

"Seriously?" she said. "So, if you had to give a number, how many days before he **is **done with me…?"

There was a derisive laugh. "Oh, it could be weeks before he's done with a lass like you," Irish said.

Eliot knew what she was trying to do. She was trying to give him a timeline.

"I've got weekend plans... maybe you could explain that to Mickey."

"You think you're a real funny bitch, don't you…!"

Eliot heard the distinctive sound of a gun making contact with a skull followed by the sound of a body hitting the pavement.

"That wasn't necessary," Irish said.

"Maybe not, but it felt good… smart ass bitch."

"We'll see how good you feel after you carry her back to the warehouse."

There was some unintelligible grumbling, some scuffling noises, and then footsteps. Eliot listened, straining to hear street noise or sirens or something. But all he heard was the sound of… seagulls?

He pulled the phone away from his face and stared at it. "Can I activate the transponder or not?! Shit!"

Hardison stepped up and grabbed the phone from his hand. "Is the connection still good?"

Eliot's mind was spinning, going over the conversation, trying to pull out any clues to what she had gotten herself into, and making plans on how to proceed. He looked at Hardison. "Huh?"

Hardison was already attaching the cell phone to his computer. "Never mind, I got it."

"Eliot? What's going on?" Sophie asked, slowly walking toward him. "Who was that?"

"I guess Paris is out," Parker pouted.

Eliot could barely interpret what they were saying. His mind was suddenly very foggy and he hated it. He looked at Nate. "I don't know whether to activate it or not…"

"Got it!" Hardison said, "Connection is still good… triangulating location…"

Nate put a reassuring hand on Eliot's shoulder as he moved past him. Nate stopped behind Hardison, looking over his shoulder at the laptop. "Please not Chicago…" Nate said.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's in Chicago…" Eliot heard himself say.

"Uh huh," Hardison confirmed tapping on his computer. "Somewhere very close to the lake… wait… pulling up satellite photos…" Hardison looked up at the bank of monitors as he projected his computer onto them. "Looks like a bunch of warehouses."

"That can't be good," Eliot muttered.

Nate turned slowly to face him. "You want to walk us through what just happened?"

Eliot held up his hand and opened his mouth, but didn't know where to start. He suddenly became very aware of the second hand ticking away on his watch. He looked at Nate and said, "No, I don't." He pushed past Nate and grabbed his phone off the table.

"I beg your pardon?" Nate asked, turning to follow Eliot's movements.

Eliot pulled the cord out of his phone, breaking the connection with Hardison's computer. He pressed a couple of buttons on the phone, switching over to the GPS program.

Nate moved in closer. "What are you doing, Eliot?"

"I'm activating the transponder…"

Nate snatched the phone from Eliot's hand and took a step away from him. White heat flashed behind Eliot's eyes and the muscles in his neck hardened. He looked at Nate. "What do you think you're doing?"

"You're acting out of emotions…"

"I am not…!" Eliot said taking a step towards him.

Hardison stood up and put himself between the other two men. "Yes, you are."

Eliot moved his glare to Hardison. Then from behind him he heard Sopie, "They're right, Eliot."

"Yeah, it's weird," Parker chimed in, "I didn't know you had emotions."

Eliot took a breath and tried to reset. "Look, I know what you're trying to do, and I…" he hesitated, looking for the right words, "I appreciate it. But there's no time for a scam here. I'm not even sure there's time for a simple retrieval…" he shook his head. "Who am I kidding… nothing is simple when she's involved…" Eliot stopped, not knowing where the words were coming from.

"She who?" Hardison asked.

Eliot looked at him and then at Nathan. Seeing the determination in both men's eyes, he dropped his head. "Loki. Her name is Loki."

=-=-=

_We've been on this walk before  
And I can't take it lightly any more  
Save Me _by **Sister Hazel**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Characters and Leverage world are not mine. Loki would be my creation, but I'd gladly give her to the show if they're interested in using her.

Wow! Thanks for all the reviews! I appreciate the encouragement and welcome writing criticism as well. So, since I seem to have an audience, thought I'd set your expectations. I've got a plot laid out for this story with a definite end. I'm writing it like it was one episode of the show although it's seeming like it's going to be longer. The details of the plot aren't coming as quickly as I'd like which might slow down my posting frequency, but the dialog sure has been fun. Hope you continue to enjoy.

**Chapter Two ~ Meet Me in the Memory**

He didn't want them to come. Didn't need their help. But they had argued and all but blocked his way out of the office, wasting precious time. So he reluctantly agreed.

After replaying the phone call, Nate advised not to activate the transponder until they were on the ground in Chicago. Eliot, once his emotions were in check, agreed. Nate postponed the Paris job while the rest of the team packed up gear and personal items. They were on the corporate jet and in the air by 1630.

Eliot stared around the cabin of the jet at four expectant faces. "This is why I prefer to work alone."

"But you don't work alone anymore, Eliot," Sophie said.

"And we need to know more about this woman and your past together," Nate added.

"It's not like that," Eliot snapped.

Nate held up his hands, "I wasn't trying to imply anything…"

"No, of course not," Parker chimed in, "because that would mean Eliot had emotions."

Eliot narrowed his eyes at the smiling blonde.

"Why don't we start with something easy, like her real name," Nate suggested.

"I don't know her real name."

There was a momentary silence then Hardison asked, "So what's Loki? A code name?"

"Is she military? Is she in intelligence?" Nate asked.

"Loki's not a code name, it's a… a nick name…" Eliot faltered as Sophie raised an eyebrow at him. "It's just what I call her, alright?" He slouched deeper into the suede seat.

"Loki? The Norse God?" Nate asked.

"Known for being mischievous?" Sophie added.

The few memories he had of her flooded over him. "In her case, known for mayhem would be more accurate."

The five sat in silence for a few long moments. "Come on, Eliot," Nate prodded finally. "You've got to give us something to work with."

Eliot exhaled then leaned forward, putting his elbows into his thighs. "Okay, look. Loki and I… It's not easy to explain… We're **not** old friends. We're **not** colleagues, and…" he pointed a finger at Hardison, "we've never slept together."

Hardison feigned offense. "Did I say anything?"

Eliot continued, "We've run into each other just two times. And both times… well, she pretty much saved my life."

=-=-=

Murmansk, Russia  
7 years ago

Eliot woke to the sound of a woman crying and pleading in Russian. He didn't bother to open his eyes. Perhaps if they thought he was unconscious they would leave him alone.

His body was engulfed in fiery pain. He hadn't had any food for… he didn't know how long. He'd lost track of the days. And the only water he'd had was what he nearly choked on during an "interrogation".

"Please… please… let me go…!" the woman pleaded between sobs. "I'm not the woman you're looking for!"

There were two clear sets of footsteps in addition to sound of dragging feet. Two guards and the screeching woman. Eliot was surprised when they stopped in front of the door of the cell. He had assumed a place like this had more than one cell. He could barely hear the sound of keys over the woman's cries.

"No, please… no…!" the woman screamed, and in his mind Eliot had a picture of digging her heels into the dirt and grabbing desperately onto the guards. "I'll do anything you want…!"

One guard laughed as the other one called her several unflattering names. Eliot heard her hit the dirt floor hard. The volume of her sobbing increased.

Eliot knew it would be an opportune time to try and escape. But he wasn't sure he could get to his feet let alone attempt an escape.

"You'll do _anything_?" one of the men snarled in Russian. Eliot heard a couple of footsteps and then some rustling. "You were beautiful before we started…" the man continued. "And your body is… pleasant… How about I come back and visit you later tonight. Maybe if you please me enough, I'll put in a good word with the old man."

The other man, apparently still standing at the doorway, laughed. Then more footsteps, the door closing, and keys being turned in the lock. The woman continued to cry pitifully as the guards retreated.

As if his predicament wasn't bad enough, now Eliot had to put up with a blubbering female and possibly being witness to an upcoming sexual assault.

He was lying on his side in a corner, his back to the woman. He considered rolling over to get a look at her, but with his hands cuffed behind his back and his right arm surely broken, it would not be a pleasant experience. So, he did his best to slip back into unconsciousness.

After a couple of minutes, the woman's crying faded away and Eliot thought he had been successful in returning to unconsciousness. So he couldn't have been more shocked when he felt her foot nudge him in the butt.

He knew he couldn't help the woman – he couldn't even help himself. But, maybe, if he was lucky, he could talk her into choking him to death before he had to face another round of fun and games with the Russians.

He gritted his teeth and rolled onto his back as carefully as he could, but a new kind of pain radiated up his arm and right into his skull.

"Good," she whispered in Russian, "You're not dead."

Without his glasses he could make out only her form and not her face. Long dark hair. Lots of curves. Dressed in a thin, shiny triangle of a shirt that barely covered her torso and did nothing to keep the cold off her skin. Tight fitting pants. No shoes, just like him.

"Look, I don't speak Russian," he said. It was a lie, but one he had been playing since he got caught.

She tilted her head and stared at him for a moment. "You're American?" she asked in English without even a hint of Russian accent.

He hesitated, all kinds of warnings sounding in his fuzzy brain. "Yeah, sure, why not…"

She leaned closer to him, examining his face. "You look like shit," she said.

He looked over her face now that he could see it more clearly. It was too dark to tell what color her eyes were, but not too dark to see the extensive swelling and bruises that covered her face. "So do you," he said.

He thought he saw a smile slip over her full lips. "How would you know? Maybe I always look like this."

She laid a hand on his forehead for a moment. She was cold and she felt good against his skin. "You've got a fever," she said, moving her hand to one eyelid and gently pushing it up. "Probably a concussion…"

"What are you, a doctor?" he mumbled.

"You don't need a doctor," she said.

"Oh yeah…? What do I need?"

"What **you** need is an escape plan."

"What?!"

She moved her hand to his bare chest and then down his left side, her fingers applying pressure on each rib as she went. He growled when her prodding caused pain. She followed the procedure on his right side.

Her stared at her. "I hope you're enjoying yourself."

She glanced into his eyes and gave him a wicked sexy smile. "Mmmm, I am, thanks," she said, and just the tone of her voice was enough to send blood flowing to places that he hadn't thought about in days. She held his stare as she finished the exam.

"At least three broken ribs. Bet that's not the first time you've had to deal with that, though… anything else broken?" she asked.

He stared at her for a moment debating the intelligence of being honest. "Weren't you blubbering just a few minutes ago?" he asked.

She tilted her head as if she were thinking about it. "Yep," she finally said.

"And now you're doing triage on me?" he asked.

Again with the head tilting and the thoughtful answer. "Yep."

"You're dangerous," he concluded.

"Only if you're against me," she said. "Are you against me, Cowboy?"

He gave her a final look and then rolled gingerly onto his left arm. "You just stay on your side of the cell, and I'll stay on mine."

There was a moment of silence and then she said, "I bet that arm is broken…"

Eliot closed his eyes and tried to block out her voice. But when he heard the sound of a zipper, he snapped his eyes open and did his best to look over his shoulder at her. Sure enough, she was unzipping her jeans.

"What _the hell_ are you doing?" he hissed.

She stopped and looked at him, her fingers curled inside the waistband of her jeans. "Wow. You're the first man that has ever given me _that_ kind of reaction in a situation like this."

She smiled and pulled something from the inside of the jeans. She held it up for him to see. It was a small piece of wire. She bent it so that she could use both ends simultaneously and then leaned down to his cuffed wrists.

He laid his head back down. "I must be delirious."

Within moments he felt the cuffs spring open, and she gently removed the bracelet from his right wrist. She put one hand in his and the other on his elbow and twisted gently.

He growled, "Yeah, yeah… it's broken." He rolled onto his back as she held his arm steady.

"You're not being very cooperative, you know," she said, laying his arm across his abdomen. She looked into his eyes. "You got somebody coming for you?"

"Me?" he laughed weakly, the idea amusingly foreign to him. "Nah. Nobody's missing me."

She studied him again. "Well, when those guards come back, I'm getting out of here. If you think you can walk on your own…" She ran her eyes over the lower parts of his body and his blood surged again. "… you're welcome to tag along."

He tried to push away the rush of emotions. He had been lying in this cell contemplating the end of his life for several days. But now he was getting a reprieve. He felt a sudden burst of energy. He tried to lift his shoulders off the floor but pain ripped through his torso and he went right back down.

"Take it easy," she soothed. She stepped over him and knelt on his left side. She cupped one hand under his elbow and the other behind his shoulder. She applied firm pressure to both, pulling him up.

He exhaled, wrapped his fingers around her elbow and sat up slowly. The pain flared again, but wasn't as bad. Once in a sitting position, his head began spinning.

She leaned back to look at him, doing a good job of reading his expression. "Deep breaths," she advised. "Focus on a single point…."

He looked at her, and chose, perhaps unwisely, to focus on her lips. He took several deep breaths and the dizziness eased.

He moved his eyes to hers. "Up and at 'em?" she asked with a small smile.

He gave a curt nod. She grabbed his hand firmly and put her other hand on his elbow. "Nice and easy," she said as she started to pull him to his feet. She used her entire body as a counter weight to get his butt off the floor. When his weight shifted onto his legs, his knees buckled. She moved impossibly fast, slipping under his arm and pressing her hip into him, taking the majority of his weight onto herself.

He wrapped his good arm around her and took a deep breath. She smelled… clean.

"Come on, Cowboy… you can do this," she whispered.

He focused on his legs and slowly shifted his weight. He was shaky, but solid. She moved out from under him and he didn't fall.

"Attaboy," she smiled.

He took a few steps more steps, nearing the wall, and fumbled with his zipper. He could only get it partway down using just the one good hand. He glanced over his shoulder at her. He expected her to be suspicious, maybe even feeling threatened, but instead she was smirking at him.

"Need a little help?" she asked with a chuckle.

He gritted his teeth against the unfamiliar sense of impotence. "Yeah…"

She stepped up to him, and keeping her eyes on his, she put one hand on the waistband of his cargo pants and pulled it upwards, straightening out the zipper. With the other hand she pulled the zipper the rest of the way down.

Green. Her eyes were green.

She stepped away, the smirk still on her lips. "You're going to have to do the rest yourself."

=-=-=

_So close to nothing__  
What are the chances we would collide?  
__And fate is the one thing  
__The strongest of us can't fight  
Meet Me in the Memory_ by **Sister Hazel**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 ~ Sword & Shield**

Her escape plan consisted of killing the guard as quietly as possible then "running like hell".

Yeah, she wasn't much of a planner. A real plan, according to her, would have to deal with contingencies and that took way too much time.

Eliot took up his original position on the floor, but this time the right bracelet of the cuffs wasn't locked. He could easily free his hand when needed. Easily, but not without pain.

She had situated herself a few feet from him, leaning against the back wall. They waited for what seemed to Eliot like several hours, and he was thankful that she wasn't the talkative type trying to fill the time with pointless chatter. Or worse, meaningful conversation.

Finally they heard noise in the corridor. Two sets of footsteps. Eliot guessed that wouldn't be the last contingency they had to deal with.

She started crying softly and when the door opened, she ramped it up. Eliot listened carefully. Both guards entered the cell. The door closed, but there was no sound of keys or locking.

"No!" the woman squeaked in Russian. "What do you want?"

A laugh. "I'm back to take you up on your offer, my pet," a man oozed in Russian. Eliot heard the sound of clothes rustling. "And Fyodor is also interested." Eliot heard a snap and the sound of creaking leather. At least the prick was taking off his weapon.

"No, please…!" she pleaded. Eliot could hear her moving away from him. "That's not what I meant!"

Eliot heard footsteps.

"How about you, friend? Would you like to watch?"

Eliot didn't realize the man was talking to him until he felt the vicious kick in his lower spine right between his cuffed hands. He went with the pain, pulling his broken arm free of the cuff and then rolling over. He crashed into the guard's legs, knocking him off his feet. The guard gave a surprised cry and fell face first into the wall.

Eliot exhaled against the pain flaring through his body. As he rolled onto his stomach, he saw that the woman was already up and moving for the other guard. The man was reaching for his own shoulder holster.

Eliot returned his focus to his immediate target. The man seemed dazed, wobbling on his knees. Eliot pushed up with his left hand, getting his knees under him. What he really wanted to do was snap the man's neck, but that wasn't a real option with a broken arm. He focused on his left arm, forming his hand into a rigid knife. He slammed it into the guard's throat. The man made a wheezing sound as he tried to suck in air, and Eliot knew he hadn't totally crushed the windpipe. He wouldn't die as quickly as Eliot liked, but he would die.

Eliot checked the woman's progress. She had her target's gun with the other shoulder holster and jacket on the ground near her feet. The man was doubled over in front of her holding his crotch. She put one hand on the back of the man's head and savagely brought her knee up into his face. As the guard was slumping toward the ground, she turned to look at Eliot. She lifted the gun and for a moment Eliot thought she was going to shoot him. But she just waved it at his target.

"Knife?" she suggested.

Eliot turned to the guard and found him fumbling with his pants leg. Eliot grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it with a sharp jerk, breaking the arm. Eliot reached under the pant leg, found the knife sheaf, and pulled the knife free.

He looked into the man's desperate eyes, watching his futile attempts to suck air. He gave a brief thought to the torture he had endured at the man's hands, and then swiftly ran the blade across the man's throat.

Eliot struggled to his feet as the guard completed his death fall, and met his cellmate at the door. She was eyeing the knife.

"May I?" she asked, holding her hand out.

He eyed the gun on the ground. She could easily beat him to it. His instinct told him it wasn't smart to give this woman control of all the weapons. But he handed her the knife anyway.

He watched her as she slipped the safety on the gun and tucked it in the back of her jeans. Then she bent over to the guard at her feet, grabbed his hair, and lifted his head. She slit the man's throat as efficiently as any special forces soldier he had ever seen.

A chill ran through him. It was probably just the fever.

She handed the knife back to him and went after the second gun. She offered it to him also.

"Not very quiet," he observed.

"A last resort," she replied.

"Thanks, I'm good," he said, with a wave of the knife.

"Are you sure? Because knives are good for in close, but considering your state you might not…" She was quiet for a moment and then pushed the gun at him.

"I don't like guns," he said firmly.

She eyed him a moment longer and then shrugged. "Suit yourself." She separated the clip from the gun and let the gun drop to the dirt. She slid the clip in her back pocket.

She ran her eyes over him and then bent down and picked up the jacket. "Here, put this on. I don't need the distraction."

He felt a flash of heat envelope him. The fever again.

She helped him into the jacket by sliding it carefully up his right arm and then holding the knife while he got his left arm in.

She eyed his broken arm. "You want a sling for that arm?"

He couldn't stop his eyes from dropping to her shiny triangle top which was the perfect shape for such a job. She caught his eyes and frowned.

"Uh, no way, Cowboy."

"Right, because I don't need the distraction."

He felt like he was blushing. Damn fever.

She smiled. "You want me to use one of their belts to immobilize your arm or not?"

"No, I'm fine. Let's just get out of here."

She turned, pushed open the door, and checked the hallway. That's when he got his first good look at the back of her shirt. Not that there was much to see. Two thin silver chains criss-crossed her back and he couldn't understand why the shirt didn't fall right off.

"And I'm the distraction?' he muttered.

"What?" she whispered, turning to face him.

"Nothing," he replied gruffly. "Are we going?"

She nodded. "The hallway is clear. We'll have to move quick because there's surveillance cameras on each end of the…"

He cut her off, "I got it. What do you think I am, am amateur?"

She stared at him for a moment. "I don't know _what_ you are."

"I've got eyes, don't I? I saw the cameras. I've got a working knowledge of the place."

"Is that so?" she challenged. "Then you know once we're up those stairs we're probably going to encounter some armed guards and a couple of other less threatening staff?"

"Yeah."

"And you know our best escape is out the back door…?"

"And then to the garage on the southeast perimeter where we'll borrow a vehicle," he completed.

She tilted her head at him. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"Good then we're on the same page," he said.

With a last nod, she slipped out of the cell. He followed her down the hall moving as quickly as he could. She unexpectedly ducked into one of the torture rooms and he had little choice but to follow. She went directly to a table in the corner and started moving things around, searching for something. He moved closer to see. On the table was a small silver purse, it's contents dumped out and obviously searched.

She shuffled the plastic cards and pulled out a photo ID, then a couple of wallet-sized photos and slipped them into her back pocket. The she grabbed a silver lipstick. She pulled off the top, twisted it up and ran it over her lips.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" he whispered, his voice more husky than usual.

She shrugged, "I have sensitive lips. They could get chapped."

As she pocketed the lipstick, she glanced around the room. She even leaned down and looked under the table.

"What are you looking for?!" he growled.

"My shoes."

"Oh, for the love of Chr…!" He wanted to grab her and drag her out of the room, but that would be impossible without losing the knife. "I'm going!"

He turned his back on her and headed for the door. He was actually relieved to hear her footsteps behind him.

"I loved those shoes," she muttered following him into the corridor.

They were halfway up the stairs when they heard yelling and furious footsteps coming from the first floor. He stopped.

"Guess they were paying attention to the monitors," he said.

"Oh, perfect!" she replied and he assumed she was being sarcastic, but he couldn't be sure. "Let me take the lead!" As she slid past him she added, "Watch for falling objects."

She paused near the top, waiting. The door flung open and Eliot had to close his eyes against the blinding light. He heard a shout of surprise and then some kind of physical contact. He heard the sound of a gun hitting the stairs and he hoped the safety was still on. He opened his eyes in time to see a large man in a suit falling head over heels down the stairs at him.

Eliot pressed his body to one side and watched for his opening. But it was unnecessary. It was clear by the way the body traveled that the man was either already unconscious or perhaps even dead.

A gunshot sounded and Eliot heard the unpleasant sound of a bullet as it sped past his head and splintered into the wood behind him.

"Hey!" he yelled indignantly.

"Sorry!" she yelled back.

He looked up at her to find her grappling with one man and at least one more man behind him waiting his turn. Eliot rushed up the stairs, keeping an eye on the three at the top.

He saw her slam the man's arm against the handrail with enough force to snap it. The gun went flying and the man cried out. The man at the top of the stairs moved his gun wildly, trying to get a clear shot at her.

Five more steps to go…

She rocketed her elbow across the man's jaw, sending his head jerking unnaturally to the side. And then as he started to fall forward, she pretty much just dropped into a crouch, using her hands to guide his descent over her and down the stairs.

Eliot ducked. Three more steps…

Eliot saw the man at the top of the stairs bringing the gun to aim on her and knew he couldn't make it in time. He brought the knife up and switched his hold on it. Knowing full well it wasn't a throwing knife, and despite the fact that he was more skilled with his right hand, Eliot launched the knife at the man's chest.

The woman straightened her legs, trying to stand up, and as Eliot passed her, he put his hand on her head and pushed her back down. She slid down a couple of steps on her butt.

The man pulled the trigger. The knife dug into the man's pectoral muscle and he cried out in surprise. Eliot launched himself at the man.

Eliot's momentum drove the man into the wall. Eliot grabbed the man's gun hand with his good hand. He slammed his forehead into the man's face and jerked the gun free. In better conditions, he would have continued the fight. As it was, he pressed the gun into the man's chest and pulled the trigger.

The woman appeared at his side and they watched man slide down the wall for a few moments.

"Thought you didn't like guns," she said.

"Last resort," he replied.

He caught a flash of movement to his left and he swung the gun in that direction. In the amount of time it took him to turn and focus, she was down on one knee with her gun drawn.

A haggard woman in her fifties got down on her knees in front of them. She was pleading for her life in Russian.

His cellmate approached the woman, speaking to her in Russian, promising that they weren't going to kill her. And then, when she got close enough, she swung her gun into the woman's temple. The woman dropped face first onto the tile floor.

As she scanned the kitchen, Eliot swung around and checked their six. He followed the short hall and peeked his head into the formal dining room. Nothing.

He listened carefully and hearing nothing, moved back toward the kitchen. They met in the middle of the hall, the servant stairs to the upper floors on his left and the back door on his right.

"Why aren't there more people?" he asked.

"Yuri left for St. Petersberg yesterday. His ungrateful children are probably out clubbing," she said.

Eliot looked at the servant stairs.

"What are you thinking, Cowboy?"

He looked at her. "I've got a job to finish," he said.

She raised her eyebrows. "Are you serious?"

He shook his head and started up the stairs. "Thanks for your help."

She gave a sarcastic laugh. "Yeah, too bad it's all for nothing."

When he turned to take her in one more time, all he saw was the back door swinging shut.

He fought off a sudden chill, surely brought about by the fever, and he climbed the stairs to the second floor. He moved slowly down the long hallway, scanning and listening. The door to Tatiana's room was open.

At least he made it farther than the last time.

He stood at the doorway for a few moments, listening. Convinced the room was empty, he entered it. He glanced into the dressing room and the bathroom beyond it as he passed, but didn't bother searching it.

His mind was distracted. He felt weaker with every step. Maybe if he could retrieve the item quickly he could catch up to the woman. It would be nice if he could pass out and let her drive them to freedom.

Eliot walked straight to Tatiana's dressing table and used the gun to lift the top of the rosewood jewelry box. The necklace – 10 karats of pink diamonds – was lying on top. He hesitated, glanced around, and then set the gun down on the table. Just as he was wrapping his fingers around the necklace, he caught movement in the mirror. He turned too quickly and wobbled, his head starting to spin.

Tatiana was about 12 feet in front of him, holding her white silk dressing gown together with one hand. He opened his mouth to say something, he wasn't sure what, but she caught him off by screaming. But not very loudly.

"Don't hurt me!" she said, raising her hand and letting the robe fall open. His eyes slid down the young woman's naked body. It was suddenly very warm in the room.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" a female voice asked from behind Tatiana. "You're not going to fall for that are you, Cowboy?"

Emotions crashed down on him. Mostly relief, but maybe a little guilt. And definitely some confusion. His legs began to tremble.

Tatiana checked the woman over her shoulder and then surprised Eliot by bringing a gun from behind her back and pointing it at his chest. His mind went to the gun on the table behind him, but his body wouldn't cooperate. Instead his legs gave out and he dropped to his knees on the plush carpet.

Tatiana lowered her gun and Eliot waited. Suddenly Tatiana jerked forward, airborne momentarily, robe wide open, the gun still extended. Once she hit the carpet, Eliot was able to see his cellmate standing behind her in a bad ass fighting stance. Eliot watched as she closed in on Tatiana, stomping on her wrist.

Eliot's butt dropped down onto his heels. He began shivering.

Tatiana screamed for real this time, and the woman bent over and grabbed the gun. Tatiana rolled and looked up at her. "You!" she shouted as if she knew her. "You whore!"

The woman pointed the gun at her. "Get up!" When Tatiana refused, the woman kicked her in the ribs. Tatiana cried out again and struggled to her feet and tried to spit at her. The woman glared at her for a moment and then punched her square in the face.

Tatiana was airborne again and then crumpled to the floor very close to Eliot. Even in his state, Eliot didn't miss that the robe was wide open again.

Eliot breathed deeply and moved his eyes to his cellmate. "I guess I should thank you."

She looked at him like she hadn't noticed him there before. "Oh, I didn't come back for you…" She started to walk away from him, pointing at the dressing area. "I came for the shoes."

She disappeared for a moment, and then reappeared having exchanged the gun for a pair of strappy shoes. "You, bitch!" the woman snapped, walking towards Tatiana's prone form. She landed a kick in Tatiana's ribs. "These are my shoes! Mine!"

She turned to Eliot and smiled. "We can go now."

Eliot's head spun. "A little help, maybe…?"

She looked him over and became serious again. She knelt next to him, working her way under his arm. They stood up slowly, Eliot leaning heavily into her.

"Explain something to me, Cowboy," she said as they slowly made their way out of the room. "Why is it that you can't trust me after all we've been through together and yet you're willing to trust that little slut?"

"Well, I've seen **her** naked."

=-=-=

_I'll be your gracious angel  
__I'll be your favorite stranger  
__I'll be the mortar, holding your walls  
__I'll be your army  
__Sword & Shield _by **Sister Hazel**


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** My writing time is dwindling, so I've been spending more time writing new stuff than editing. Hopefully you'll still enjoy the ride!

**Chapter Four ~ One Time**

Eliot relayed the details of that long night as a tactical debriefing. He shared none of his emotions, none of the color, and very little dialog. But looking around at the disbelieving expressions on their faces, he wondered if he'd let something slip.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"That's it?" Parker asked.

"Yeah, that's it," Eliot replied.

"You two just drove off into the sunset?" Parker whined.

"Well, yeah" Eliot said, "Right after the explosion…"

"Explosion?" Sopie exclaimed.

Eliot leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, we're finally driving away from the place and she hits the brakesand gives me this _look_. Then she pulls out the lipstick, gives it a twist, and bombs start going off. It was…" Eliot smiled, "amazing."

Hardison's jaw dropped open. "And you didn't sleep with her?" Eliot frowned at him. "Cuz I'm just saying she sounds like the perfect woman for you."

Eliot prepared to verbally skewer Hardison, but Nate interrupted, "So, she **did** come back for you."

"Yeah, I like to think so."

"You said you've run into her two times," Sophie prompted.

"Yeah, and you haven't explained the nickname yet," Parker added.

Nate interrupted again, "I'm sure Eliot is dying to share more with us, but we're going to be on the ground in 45 minutes and we need to decide how to proceed." He turned his attention to Eliot. "So her call… it was a code?"

Eliot nodded. "Yeah, after our second… uh…" Eliot had trouble finding an appropriate word, "… episode, she came up with this protocol…"

"Protocol?" Nate interrupted. "She used that word?"

Eliot nodded, "Yeah, I know, she was probably a spy… Anyway, we set up this protocol and did the transponders…"

"Transponders?" Hardison interrupted, emphasizing the 's'. "You've got one too?"

Eliot exhaled sharply and served up his best withering look, "Yeah."

"Good to know," Hardison smiled. "Good to know."

"_Anyway_," Eliot continued, "the first part of her message about needing a tow… she was telling me she needed a rescue. Me asking the location wasn't really code – it was the way we were going to communicate general location. And me asking about onStar was to figure out if it was safe to activate the transponder."

"And the detail on the car?" Nate asked.

Eliot shrugged. "Dunno. My guess is she's actually got a car parked at Michigan and Randolph with something valuable in it."

"But if it's really an STS, it really does have onStar and can easily be tracked," Hardison pointed out.

"My guess is that she's disabled it," Eliot said.

"Okay," Nate said, turning to Hardison, "Any luck in narrowing down Mickey?"

"Yeah, right," Hardison said, looking down at the computer on his lap and running his finger over the touch pad. "There's hundreds of thousands of Mickeys in the Chicagoland area. There's Mickey's Bar, Mickey's Barber Shop, Mickey's House of Chow, etcetera." He looked up. "The only Chicago Mickey in any of the government databases is Mickey Hart, an alderman, who knowing Illinois politics, is almost certainly dirty."

All eyes turned to Eliot. "Think that's a possibility?" Nate asked.

"I have no idea what she might be into," Eliot said. "I honestly don't know much about her."

Nate scrutinized him with his cool blue eyes. Finally Nate turned back to Hardison. "You never ran into or heard of a Mickey while working out of Chicago?"

"Nope, never."

They sat in silence for a few moments. Hardison broke it, "You want me to look into Mickey Hart?"

"No, let's wait and see if she's left us anything in the car," Nate replied. He leaned forward addressing Sophie, Parker, and Hardison. "Once we land, you three rent a car and go find that STS. Eliot and I will retrieve the girl. We'll meet back at Hardison's place."

Everybody nodded except Eliot. "It's too dangerous, Nate. I'll go after Loki alone."

Nate looked at him. "I'll drive, you do all the tough stuff." Eliot continued to frown. "You don't know what kind of condition she'll be in, Eliot. You may need an extra set of hands."

Eliot studied Nate's face for a moment. "Any way I can talk you out of this?"

"No," Nate answered without hesitation.

"Then fine. Whatever."

=-=-=

It was close to midnight by the time they neared the waterfront in the rented van. Eliot typed the code into his phone, and within a few moments a GPS grid appeared with a flashing red dot. Relief fell on him like a rainforest shower. She was close. Or at least her body was close.

That thought brought an abrupt end to his rainforest shower.

"I didn't think you were much of a tech guy," Nate commented.

"I'm not. This was all her idea," he said, glancing at Nate. "I had Hardison move the app to the new phone for me."

"He never mentioned it to me," Nate said.

"Yeah, well, I used my special growl."

Nate smiled and Eliot returned his attention to the GPS. "Okay, turn right here and park next to that building. I'll take the rest on foot."

Eliot pulled on his black stocking cap as he waited for Nate to park. He set the phone on the dash in Nate's view, opened the door and had a foot on the asphalt when Nate stopped him.

"Hey! Take this!" Nate snapped, holding out his open palm.

"Yeah, right," Eliot said, plucking the communication device from Nate's hand. As he pushed it into his ear, he said, "Don't expect me to be real talkative."

"So what's new," Nate quipped. "Just let me know when you've got her and you're on your way out."

Eliot nodded curtly and slid out of the van. They hadn't seen any other vehicles or people yet, but he kept to the shadows just in case. He stopped at the corner of one warehouse and peeked around it at the building the GPS had indictated.

Without thinking, he relayed to Nate, "Got a late model GMC SUV parked in front, and a light on inside the building."

"That's good… I guess," Nate replied.

"Can't fit more than eight guys in that one vehicle," he said. He checked for cameras and took off in a full run. "No surveillance that I can see."

"Best to do a full perimeter check," Nate said.

"Yeah, I'm on it."

Eliot cautiously circled the building, looking for security systems, and signs of life. As he passed the front door, he noted the security card reader and number pad, and read the small sign, "O'Mara Enterprises."

"Mickey O'Mara?" Nate asked.

"Yeah, I've got a feeling," Eliot replied checking the window with the light. He couldn't see any people, but saw a couple of shadows. "At least two guys in front." He moved on to the side.

"You're being awfully talkative," Nate commented.

"Apparently it's habit, now, thank you, Nate," he growled.

Windows up high on the sides, big loading dock doors in back with the same kind of security as the front. He stopped at the corner to check the final side. No additional vehicles, nothing else of interest. He made a quick decision to try and break the code on the loading doors security pad. If the system did notify the bad guys that a door had been opened at least he'd have some time before they got to him.

He stood in front of the card reader. This was the worst part of the job – the tech stuff. He pulled one of Hardison's toys from his cargo pants pocket, and slid the card into the reader as Hardison had taught him. He pushed the button and watched as five digit numbers started flashing on the device.

It took less than 30 seconds; a beep sounded and Eliot heard the lock releasing. He reached down and lifted the door just high enough to allow him to roll under it. He disconnected the device, shoved it back in a pocket, and then rolled into the warehouse. Literally.

Once inside, he lay still, listening for people and letting his eyes adjust. He heard far off voices, but they didn't seem to be moving.

"She's right, we're not exactly dealing with Mensa…" he muttered.

"Yeah, well, speaking of Mensa, I've been thinking…" Nate said, "Since we don't know what the situation is here, it would probably be best if you could just get her out of there without anybody seeing you."

He doubted that was possible. "I understand," he whispered.

Eliot pushed up to his feet and started moving towards the front of the building. It was filled with crates. Eliot checked an open one as he passed. An old chair, an old clock, and a fancy lamp. Antiques maybe. Most importantly, he found a crowbar on the ground near the open crate. He picked it up and continued toward the voices.

He walked through the maze of crates, until he was close enough to hear what the men were saying. There were two distinct voices; one without an accent complaining about his wife and mother-in-law and the other with an Irish accent snapping "So, divorce her," every few seconds.

Eliot slid around a crate and saw that the men were in an office-like area that was separated from the rest of the warehouse with a partial wall and a big glass window. He also saw a dark shape on the ground to his left. He moved closer for a better look. It was definitely a person slumped against the base of a large steel support column.

"Think I found her!" he whispered.

"Really?" Nate exclaimed. "Is she okay?"

Eliot darted from shadow to shadow until he was at her side. Her head was hanging down over her chest. Her hands were restrained behind her back, which even if it was handcuffs wouldn't be a problem. But the impossibly thick chain threaded under her arms and padlocked around her waist… that could be a problem.

She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans, no shoes or socks. And she was shivering.

"Is she okay?" Nate repeated.

"Well, she's not dead."

He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered her name. There was no response. He set the crowbar down and gently lifted her head. There was duct tape across her mouth and her eyes were closed. To his surprise, there were no marks on her face.

He patted her cheek gently and spoke her name again. Still nothing. He put his fingers on her throat and checked her pulse. It was dangerously slow.

Eliot tried to remove the duct tape gently, but it was impossible. He whispered an apology, "Sorry 'bout this…" and jerked the duct tape off. Her body jerked and her eyes opened suddenly. "Loki!" he whispered. Her eyes rolled towards his face, but her eyelids fluttered and closed and her body went limp again. Her lips were dry and cracked and small dots of blood started to appear.

"Loki… you gotta wake up…!"

Eliot was interrupted by an angry Irish accent, "Oy! What do you think you're doing?"

He grabbed the crowbar with his left hand and stood up. He faced two men. Both men were tall and foreboding, with short military-style hair cuts and both pointing Desert Eagle automatics at him. They were obviously professionals, and Eliot was half surprised they hadn't already shot him. He walked quickly toward them, hiding the crowbar behind him.

"I've got just one question for you…"

"Stop right there!" the one without the accent snarled. He waved his gun menacingly.

Eliot stopped a few feet short of them. "Which one of you has the key?"

The two men stared at him and then Irish laughed. "You've got more balls than brains, boyo!"

"That hurts, coming from a guy like you," Eliot said and then exploded into action. He swung the crowbar up, knocking Irish's arm skyward just as he pulled the trigger. On his downward swing, Eliot slammed the crowbar into the American's skull. The American dropped to his knees while Irish brought his gun back down towards Eliot's head.

"Eliot?" Nate whispered anxiously.

"Little busy," Eliot said, wrapping his right hand around Irish's gun and then throwing his most powerful side kick into his ribs. Irish flew backwards while Eliot held on to the gun. Irish hit the window office hard enough to send a spider web of cracks through it.

Eliot looked down at the American. He was still on his knees, blood starting to flow through his short hair and down the side of his face. He struggled, trying to bring the gun to aim on Eliot. Eliot used his left foot to knock the man's hand away.

Back to Irish who was approaching him again. Eliot dropped the clip from the gun and threw the weapon at Irish. Irish caught it with his face and staggered backwards.

The American was trying to bring his gun up again and Eliot slammed the crowbar into his wrist. The man cried out and finally dropped the gun.

Eliot let Irish move back within range and then drove him down to the ground with an explosive ax kick. The American reached for his gun with his uninjured hand; Eliot kicked him in the face and the man went backwards.

Eliot looked at Irish who was trying to come to his feet. "The key!" Eliot growled.

"Piss off!" Irish said, wobbling up to his normal height.

Eliot slid behind Irish and delivered a sharp kick to the back of his knee, sending him back down to the ground. Eliot dropped the crowbar. He grabbed Irish's chin with one hand and pulled, and put his other hand on the back of Irish's head and pushed. Violently. There was nothing left of the man except for the crackle of vertebrae and one last exhalation.

Before Irish's body hit the floor, Eliot was on top of the American, straddling him. He grabbed the man's shirt and lifted him up far enough to deliver a vicious punch to his face.

"I'm through playing with you!" Eliot snapped. "Give me the key!"

The man turned his broken face towards him. "I don't have it!" the man yelled, pointing in the general direction of his fallen comrade. "Padraig has it!"

Eliot shoved the man back into the floor and returned to Irish. He rolled the big man over and started searching his pockets. He was pleased to find not just one but two keys.

Eliot stood and slipped the keys into his pocket. He watched the American for a moment as he pulled himself along on the floor, moving toward the gun. "You're persistent, I'll give you that," Eliot said as he approached him. "Here, let me help."

In a smooth series of movements, Eliot crouched down, grabbed the gun, put it in the man's hand, and then put the barrel under the man's chin. Eliot held the man's hand on the gun and moved his own finger to the trigger.

The man narrowed his eyes at Eliot and Eliot pulled the trigger. He turned his head away from the explosion of bone, blood, and tissue.

"Hey!" Loki protested quietly. Eliot looked at her and found that she was on the edge of the splatter zone.

"Oh, sorry, darlin'!" he said moving to her side. She rolled her head weakly, trying to wipe her face on her t-shirt.

"Here, let me," he said, running his hands gently over her face. She tried to look at him through heavy lids. "Did they drug you?" he asked.

Her head bobbed. "Sedatives… Apparently I'm hard to handle…"

Eliot laughed, "That's an understatement."

He pulled the keys from his pocket and made quick work of the padlock, chains, and handcuffs. He pulled her into his arms.

"Ow," she said, and leaned into him heavily.

"Sorry," he said again. He stood and started walking toward the front door. "Nate, we're coming out the front."

"On my way," Nate replied.

Eliot kicked the bar on the front door not caring if it set off alarms. Which it didn't. At least not any audible alarms.

"I'm cold," she mumbled against his chest.

"We've got a blanket in the van," he said.

"I hate being cold," she whined.

He smiled down at her. "I know you do."

Nate brought the van to a stop in front of them, and then scrambled across the interior to open the sliding door. Eliot climbed carefully into the van, sat down, and arranged her in his lap.

"Blanket?" he asked.

"Got it," Nate replied, closing the door. He reached back to the third seat and grabbed the blanket. He opened it and draped over Loki, then took a moment to look at her. "Is she okay?"

Loki got heavier in his arms. He looked down at her. She looked much different than the last time he'd seen her. Her hair fell just past her shoulders and was a rich auburn color. Her face was pale and gaunt, causing her freckles to look darker than he remembered. But there were no bruises and no swelling. Her eyes, when they were open, looked much darker. She was leaner – more muscle and less curves. He wasn't sure he liked it… any of it.

"They drugged her… I'm worried…" he said, looking up at Nate. "Maybe I should take her to the hospital."

"Uh… well…" Nate stammered.

Loki dug her fingers into his shirt. "No hospital," she whispered. He looked down at her. "I'm okay."

"Yeah, you look okay," Eliot said.

She struggled to open her eyes. "Well, if you would have gotten here faster…"

"Well, if you would have called me sooner," Eliot countered.

Nate smiled. "I think she's gonna pull through." He climbed back into the driver's seat and put the van in drive.

She looked at his face, struggling to keep her eyes open. She gasped suddenly and her face contorted.

"What? What is it?" he asked anxiously, thinking she was in pain.

"What happened to your hair?" she exclaimed weakly.

He smiled as she reached up for his stocking cap. She got a weak hold on it and tugged. He grabbed her hand and returned it to his chest, then pulled off his cap.

She blinked heavily, still fighting the sedation. "Oh, Eliot, honey," she whispered. "Didn't anybody tell you? Grunge is dead."

=-=-=

_One time, I wanna be the hero, baby__  
One time, I wanna be who you adore__  
One time, will you look at me again  
__Like I'm more than just a friend  
__This time  
One Time _by **Sister Hazel**

**Author's note:** While I have relaxed my editing, that particular thing there at the end that you might be thinking is a slip, isn't. It's a reveal.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five ~ In the Moment**

They had been watching the security cameras and knew when Nate and Eliot arrived in the parking deck. They were waiting at the door.

"Is she okay?" Sophie asked before they had even crossed the threshold.

Eliot followed Nate into the loft, Loki seemingly unconscious in his arms. "She'll live," he said.

Sophie, Parker, and Hardison collapsed around them, examining Loki.

"Ew, what's that stuff on her face?" Parker asked.

"It got a little messy," Nate said.

Hardison caught Eliot's eye. "Damn!" he mouthed and waved his hand.

Eliot gave a quiet growl. "Can I put her in one of the upstairs bedrooms?"

"Yeah, of course, man. Make yourself at home. Maybe get her a shower or something…" Hardison ran a hand over his face, "Maybe get that stuff off her face."

Eliot headed for the stairs.

"Saw the car downstairs," Nate said. "Any problems?"

"No problems," Parker reported.

Eliot heard the team moving toward Hardison's office area as he started up the stairs.

"Eliot's lady knows her way around computers," Hardison said. "She's got a ton of electronic dirt on this guy, Mickey O'Mara…"

"Show me what she's got," Nate said.

Eliot reached the top of the stairs and carried Loki into the guest bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, and then walked to the bathroom and turned on the light. It gave a gentle illumination to the room. When he returned to the bed, her eyes were open.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"Uh…" He hesitated, finding it as difficult to explain them to her as it was to explain her to them. He sat down on the edge of the bed. "They're… friends, I guess."

"Friends?" she repeated skeptically.

He nodded. "You can trust them. They can… **We** can help you, Loki. Whatever you've gotten yourself into."

She stared at him for a moment. "That's a nice thought," she said. "But right now, the only thing I need help doing is getting to the bathroom."

"Hmmm, well, I think I can manage that one on my own," he said, sliding his arms under her again.

"I should hope so," she mumbled.

There was a quiet knock on the doorframe. Eliot lifted Loki into his arms and turned to face the door. It was Sophie, carrying a tray.

"I brought some water and a few sandwiches," she said.

"Thanks," Eliot said. Sophie walked in and set the tray on the end of the bed. "Loki, this is Sophie."

Loki nodded. "Nice to meet you. Wish it were under different circumstances."

"Nice to meet you too, _Loki_," Sophie said with her usual graciousness. "If there's anything else I can do to make you more comfortable, just let me know."

"I think we're good for now, " Eliot said.

Sophie nodded and disappeared out the door. Eliot carried Loki into the bathroom.

It was awkward to say the least. She clung to him as he undid her jeans so she could use the toilet. He did his best to keep his eyes on hers. She started laughing softly.

"Haven't we been here before?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "But last time I was on the receiving end."

He finally got her set down and quickly turned his back on her. He shifted his weight awkwardly, not knowing what to do or say.

There were several moments of relative quiet and then she asked, "Can you help me with a bath, Cowboy?"

"Uh…" Eliot eyed the sunken tub and considered her condition. "Sure, I'll get Sophie to help you."

"No," she said firmly.

He turned to face her. "Loki… I can't…"

She shook her head. "Sophie seems very nice, but I don't know her."

He eyed her. "Yeah, well, if you think me helping you take a bath is a good idea then you don't know me either."

"Please, Cowboy," she pleaded, "It's been like 5 days! Plus I'm covered in blood, which is pretty much your fault, by the way."

"I understand," he replied, "Just let me get Sophie. She'll be happy to help." He turned and walked toward the door.

"Please, Eliot… don't leave me right now…" she whispered.

He stopped in his tracks. Her voice… he'd never heard her sound that way. Desperate. Vulnerable. Near tears. He turned slowly to look at her.

"Please…"

He shook his head helplessly, went to the tub, and started the water. He watched as it started to fill the faux marble tub. He ran his hand over it. "There should be bubbles or something…" he muttered. He checked her over his shoulder. "There should be bubbles, right?" He stood and turned for the door again. "I'll go ask Hardison if he has any…"

"No," she whispered, interrupting him. "It's okay."

Eliot exhaled and went to help her up. She reached her hands up to him. He took them and pulled her to her feet. She wobbled a little and he put his hands on her hips to steady her. She wrapped her hands around his neck. He helped her walk to the tub and guided her down to sit on the edge. Keeping his eyes on her forehead, he pulled off her jeans and underwear.

He reached over and turned off the water, and when he came back to her he saw the bruises on the back of her legs. "Jesus, Loki!" he said, lifting her leg gently to get a better look.

"Pipe," she said quietly.

He grabbed her t-shirt and pulled it gently over her head to find her entire torso bruised, front and back. He looked back into her eyes. "I'm definitely gonna kill this Mickey guy. You know that right?"

She gave him a sad smile. "That's sweet, Eliot, but..."

"But what?" he demanded. She cringed suddenly, closed her eyes tightly, and reached for her head. "What is it? Are you okay?" he asked.

"Migraine…" she whispered. "I could handle the rest of this if I could just get rid of this damn thing."

"Migraine?" he repeated.

She opened her eyes. "Yeah, I started getting them a couple of years ago. I had to retire because of it."

He searched her face. "You're retired?"

She nodded. "Had no choice. Torture has nothing on migraines, I'm telling you. The first time I got one, I nearly put a bullet in my skull just to stop the pain."

He shook his head trying to image a pain worse than some of the torture he had survived. "You must have medicine… we'll go to your place…"

"No! Mickey's probably got guys watching my place."

Eliot smiled. "That won't be a problem for Parker."

"Parker?"

"Yeah, she's a world class thief," he said. "I'll just get you in the bath and go talk to her."

"I'm not sure my pain is worth her risking her life," she said. "It will go away eventually... I think."

He kept his eyes on hers as he reached around her and undid her bra. "Give me the address and let her go take a look. It'll give her something to do."

He removed her bra and helped her into the hot water. She reluctantly gave him the address of her duplex on the river.

He relayed the request to Parker, who was thrilled. Hardison insisted on going with her.

When Eliot returned to the bathroom, Loki was reclined, her head lying back against the tub, her hair wet, her eyes closed.

He grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet and knelt beside the tub. "You know hundreds of people drown every year falling asleep in the bathtub," he said.

She opened one eye to look at him. "I like living on the edge."

He plunged the cloth into the water and gently washed her face. He grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured some into his hand. She sat up straighter to allow him to wash her hair. He put his hands into her hair and gently worked it around, building a lather. He kept checking her face to make sure he wasn't causing her any more pain. He hadn't realized how intimate washing hair could be. He was getting lost in the feeling of the lather and her hair and the pleasant fragrance, and his eyes started to travel over the curves of her body.

Her voice snapped his eyes back up to her face. "You haven't asked me a single question about what happened," she said.

"Yeah, well, I see the end result. I'm already mad enough to go kill this guy. I'm not sure I need to hear the details." He caught her eyes. "Besides, the whole team needs to hear it."

She shook her head. "Eliot, I can't… there's no easy way out of this… I don't want to drag anybody else in…"

He pulled his hands from her hair. "I'm **not** leaving you here to deal with this alone. And those people down there won't let me do this on **my** own. So, you're stuck with us. You'll tell us what's going on and together we'll decide the best course of action."

Her look changed to something more like a glare. "Or else?"

"Or else?" he repeated, feeling like she had just slapped him. "Or else maybe I'll just turn you back over to this Mickey guy and you two can pick up where you left off!"

Her eyes burned and muscles stiffened. She turned away from him.

"That's gratitude for you, huh?" he said putting his hands back in the frothy mess of her hair and scrubbing a little harder than before. "How did you get so stubborn?"

"You should know," she bit off. "We're two peas in a pod, you and I!"

He stopped and looked at her. "You're right!" he snapped. "So, I know what you're thinking and let me tell you something, missy. It won't work." He waited until she met his eyes before continuing. "Don't try to run away, because I will track you down. You know I can do it." He nodded his head in the general direction of her transponder.

An angry silence filled the air between them as he finished her hair. So instead of asking her nicely to rinse, he put his hand on her head and pushed her under the water. He released her immediately and she came back up spitting water in his direction.

"What was that for?" she snapped.

"Thought you needed to cool off, hot head."

She frowned at him and slid back down far enough to rinse her hair. "Two peas in a pod," she repeated.

He smiled and put his hands in the water to help. When she sat up, he said, "Here's a question: is that the real color of your hair?"

She hesitated. "No, it's the color _he_ likes. But it's close. My real color is a few shades lighter… strawberry blonde, I guess."

"And what about those six-pack abs? Is that what he likes too?"

She frowned. "That was totally my doing. I've been working out too much and teaching too many classes at the dojang…"

"But?" he prodded.

"But, yeah," she said reluctantly, "He likes them."

Giving her a bath – feeling her curves under the washcloth while keeping his eyes on the ceiling -- was a special kind of torture. He finished as quickly as possible, got her out, dried her off, and wrapped her in one of Hardison's guest robes.

He propped up a couple of pillows, tucked her into bed, and fed her a sandwich. He made her drink an entire bottle of water. Then he leaned back against the pillows and they talked about nothing particularly meaningful until Parker and Hardison returned.

Eliot went downstairs to meet them.

"She was right, there was a guy watching the place," Parker said.

"A guy the size of the Sears Tower," Hardison added.

Parker handed a duffle bag to Eliot. "Grabbed her toothbrush and some clothes too."

"Thanks, guys," Eliot said, and hurried back upstairs.

He walked into the guest room, dropped the bag on the floor and opened it. The syringes were right on top. He grabbed one and walked to the bed.

Loki gave a relieved smile when she saw the syringe. "I can't believe she got it!"

"I told you she was world class," he said, opening the package. "Where do you get this?" he asked.

"Thigh," she said.

He pulled down the covers and brushed the robe aside, being careful to keep her covered as much as possible. He pulled the cap off the syringe, inserted it into her thigh, and pushed the medicine into her body.

"God bless Parker… and Imitrex," she whispered.

Eliot removed the needle and covered her back up. "How long before you start feeling better?"

"10 minutes, tops," she said. "But it's usually knocks me out."

"Good, you need the rest," Eliot replied, sitting on the edge of the bed.

She looked at him, and grabbed his hand. "Stay with me till I'm asleep?" she asked.

"Of course," he said.

And he did.

=-=-=

_I'm in the moment  
The one where nothing matters  
__ And everything's alright  
__I'm seeing things so clearly now__  
And you're the reason why__  
I'm in the moment  
__And I'm alive  
In the Moment _by **Sister Hazel**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **I appreciate the reviews! If for no other reason to know that there's an audience for this story.

**Chapter Six ~ Killin' Me Too**

Once she was asleep, Eliot picked up the now empty tray and went back downstairs. He was surprised to find Parker and Hardison still up, watching some late night reality TV show and making rude comments.

Hardison looked up at him. "Beers in the fridge, man."

"Good," Eliot said, setting the tray near the sink and turning to the refrigerator.

"Bring me another one while you're in there," Hardison said.

"Need anything Parker?" Eliot asked, opening the fridge and grabbing two green bottles.

"No, thanks. I've already had my limit."

Eliot closed the door and walked toward the living area. "I didn't know there was a limit on wine coolers."

Hardison laughed. Parker pouted. "Very funny," she snapped.

Eliot sat down in the chair at the end of the coffee table, handed Hardison a beer, and then twisted the top off his own bottle. He watched as Parker and Hardison made faces at each other and whispered.

Eliot took a drink and studied them. Seemed they were arguing about something having to do with him. He had little patience for that type of thing. "What? What!"

The other two stopped their hushed arguing and looked at him. Parker reached down beside the couch and brought up a framed photo. Hardison muted the sound on the TV. Parker had to lean across Hardison to hand Eliot the frame.

"I picked this up at her place."

Eliot reluctantly took the frame and looked at it. It was a photo of Loki with a man. A very GQ kind of man. Tall, broad shoulders, and obviously fit. He had short reddish-brown hair, fair skin and was wearing a dark jacket with an evergreen tailored shirt. He had Loki pulled in close and she was movie star gorgeous. Her hair pulled up, wearing a glittery, sapphire dress that showed all kinds of skin, a string of diamonds decorating her throat.

"That's Mickey O'Mara," Hardison said.

Eliot nodded and took another drink.

There was a moment of silence as he stared at the photo. Finally Parker said, "And that's one helluva rock on her hand."

"Yeah, kinda hard to miss," Eliot said.

"On her **left** hand," Parker said.

Eliot looked up in time to catch Hardison putting his elbow in Parker's ribs.

"Yeah, I get it," Eliot gritted, laying the photo face down on the coffee table so he didn't have to look at it. "I'd like to think he's a mark, but she just told me she's retired."

They sat in silence again, Eliot finishing his beer and trying to ignore the other two staring at him.

"So, when do we get to hear the second story?" Parker asked.

Eliot looked at her. "Isn't it past your bedtime or something?"

"C'mon, Eliot," Parker pleaded. "Maybe it'll make you feel better to talk about it."

He frowned and wrinkled up his face. "I feel fine," he snapped. "Why wouldn't I feel fine?"

Parker held his stare for a moment, then got off the couch. She reappeared a fresh beer and handed it to him.

He looked up at her, "What, no popcorn?"

She ignored him and reclaimed her seat on the other side of Hardison. "Start talking."

"Fine," he gritted. "But you're gonna put this in a report or something cuz I'm not going through it again for Nate and Sophie."

=-=-=

Kalispell, Montana

4 years ago

There was something comforting about a bookstore on a Sunday afternoon. It reminded him of his mother. So whenever he happened to find himself in town on a Sunday afternoon, which wasn't often, he would stop.

Eliot scanned the thinning crowd in the cafe. It must getting close to the time normal people have supper. There were a couple of teenagers in one corner, a woman sitting alone, and a married couple. He'd have no problem getting a seat that would give him a view of the front door.

The dangerous thing about bookstores were the shelves. Lots of places to hide – lots of places for an ambush. He was aware of that threat. The one place he hadn't anticipated an ambush was the café serving counter.

He watched the woman on the other side of the counter as she bent over and shuffled some things around in a cabinet under the espresso machine. She was singing a song he didn't recognize and swaying her perfectly shaped butt.

He watched her for so long he started to feel guilty. He cleared his throat a couple of times to get her attention.

She stood up and faced him, "Oh, I'm sorry," she said with a smile. "I'm sorta off in my own little world…"

She definitely was.

Her blond hair was cut short, colored with streaks of brassy red, and defying gravity at a hundred different angles. Her eyes were unnaturally blue. She had freckles and a little pixie nose, and glitter spread over her eyelids and cheeks. Her full lips were pink and shiny and she had colored in a tiny heart between her cheek bone and the corner of her left eye. Dangling earrings made of large silver hearts hung from her ears and almost brushed the top of her shoulders.

He took in the rest of her without moving his eyes from her face. She was wearing a tight fitting, pink, V-neck polo shirt that showed off the perfect amount of cleavage in his opinion. Athletically built, well defined arms for a woman, a gentle narrowing at the waist, and long legs covered with Gap chinos.

She waited patiently as he studied her, smile firmly in place. Then she said, "What can I get for you, Cowboy?"

And the warning flags went off in his head. He narrowed his eyes at her, suddenly serious. Was it possible that it was _her_? He checked his surroundings again wondering what else he had missed. Seeing no other threats except the woman in front of him, he checked her name tag.

Most of the staff wore green plastic tags with their names and job titles carved into them. But her nametag was a laminated piece of paper with her name hastily written in capitals with grease pencil.

He looked back to her eyes, "Well, Loki…"

"Lori," she corrected.

"Tag says Loki," he said motioning to the tag with his eyes.

She gave him a suspicious look and then looked down at the tag. "Oh, that's funny," she muttered quietly. She looked back to him and in a louder voice said, "Must have brushed against something. I'll fix that later."

"You better," Eliot said, slipping fully into the southern drawl. "You don't want to get hung with a name like Loki."

She bit her lip and it looked like she was fighting a smile. "Can I get you something?" she repeated.

"Just a cup of coffee, black," he said.

She tilted her head at him playfully. "Are you sure you don't want a Café au Lait? Cuz I'm really getting the hang of this machine," she said jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the espresso machine.

"Just coffee."

"A soy mocha?" she suggested.

"Just coffee."

"A half de-caff caramel latte?"

He wasn't sure if he should laugh or growl. "Coffee."

She smiled and shrugged. "Suit yourself. You want the El Salvador blend with its rich chocolaty overtones and low acidity or the Colombian Supremeo with its berry essence and medium acidity?"

"Surprise me," he said.

She smiled and raised one eyebrow. "Thought I already had," she said loud enough for only him to hear. Then at normal volume she asked, "For here or to go?"

"For here… unless you think I should get it to go," he said.

"No, here is good," she said with a smile.

She poured him a cup of coffee and he paid for it with cash. He took his coffee and the two books he had selected from the new non-fiction shelf and headed for the corner table. He spent the next 30 minutes on high alert. Pretending to read the latest biography on George W. Bush, but instead watching her.

She cleared and cleaned tables in between serving a customers. She interacted with the customers like she knew them all. She sat down with the two teenage boys and talked to them for a few minutes. She laughed flirtatiously at most everything they said, and when she left the table she gave one of them a friendly squeeze on the shoulder. She talked to the married couple asking what they had thought of the pastor's sermon that morning.

Finally, 45 minutes after he'd taken his seat, she made it to his table. "Anything else I can get you, Cowboy?"

He was hoping she was going to give him more than that. It couldn't be just a coincidence that she showed up here. He had to talk to her alone.

"No, I'm good thanks," he said.

She glanced around and then pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. "I'm new here, but it seems we've got a pretty regular clientele. I don't think I've seen in here before."

"Probably, not," he replied. "I don't get by here very often." He extended his hand. "Name's Cal."

She smiled and placed her hand in his. "I'm…"

"Loki, I know," he said.

She squeezed his hand a little firmer than a normal handshake, but she smiled and put a sultry edge on her voice, "You can call me whatever you want, stud."

She pressed a piece of paper into his palm and pulled her hand away. He closed his fingers over the paper and casually dropped his hand into his lap.

They chatted about nothing real for several minutes and then she got up. "Well, Cal, I hope to see you around here again."

He gave her his best southern boy smile. "You can count on it, Miss Loki."

He waited until he was in his truck before checking the note. It was an address and just one short sentence: Watch your back.

=-=-=

He recognized the address enough to know that it was in a lower income part of town. He took an indirect route and watched for tails. He saw none. The house was a small gray two-story that had seen it's better days. It differed from many of its neighbors by having a detached garage. He circled the block several times, charting escape routes and looking for signs of surveillance or booby traps. All the while, his brain was working overtime trying to figure out how she found him and why.

He waited for dusk, then parked his truck at the closest corner bar and walked along the back alley to the house. He took note of the houses as he passed. Which ones had lights, which ones had curtains open, and what kind of people he could see. Nothing looked suspicious.

He approached the house first, skirting around it in the shadows. All the shades were drawn. He found no signs of life or booby traps, but he still wasn't anxious to go in. He checked the garage next. The door wasn't locked. He opened it a fraction, checking for traps. Finding none, he opened it farther and eased inside. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness. There was room for one car, and nothing else useful. No tools, no gasoline or other household chemicals, no automatic weapons.

He checked his watch. Surely she would be off work by now. He left the garage and circled back behind it. There wasn't a single shrub to hide behind. The neighbor, however, had a nice hedge of irregularly shaped bushes in full bloom. It would take him only a couple of steps to make it from the hedge to the garage.

He hunkered down in the bushes and waited. He waited for about an hour and a half before a Honda Civic pulled into the driveway. He couldn't see the driver but had to assume it was her. He waited until she had pulled into the garage and then he broke from his cover and slid behind the garage. He heard the engine shut off, the big door close, and within moments he heard the smaller door open.

He let her walk a few steps and then glided up behind her, clamped one hand over her mouth, and wrapped the other arm around her midsection and drug her behind the garage. She didn't struggle. He was surprised.

He used his body to pin her to the garage, then put his lips to her ear. "It's me. Don't scream."

She mumbled something against his palm. He removed his hand slowly. "Wasn't planning on it," she repeated.

"What is this place?" he whispered as he started running his hands over her body looking for weapons.

"A safe house," she replied, "And can I just say that I'm terribly disappointed you still don't trust me?"

"Whose safe house?" he countered. "And I still haven't seen you naked."

She laughed. "It's my personal safe house, you jerk, and you're not going to find any weapons on me. But feel free to keep doin' what you're doin'. It's been a while since I got lucky."

He hesitated, his hands resting on her hips. "Why am I here?"

"I'd like to think it's because you're irresistibly attracted to me. But it's probably about the note, right?" He gave a low growl in his throat. "Cut it out, you're turning me on!" she said, pushing away from the garage and sliding out from under him.

She turned to him, a slightly annoyed look on her face. "C'mon, let's get inside before somebody sees us."

She led the way to the back door and after a slight hesitation, he followed. He waited as she unlocked it with a key, and then followed her inside. He closed the door, and watched as dropped her purse on the kitchen table, peeled off her coat, and hung it on the back of a chair. Then she walked directly to the refrigerator.

"Let me ask you something," she said, pulling two bottles of beer from the fridge and closing the door. "When exactly does spring kick in here?"

He laughed. "It's May, darlin'. Spring is in full bloom." He took the beer she handed to him.

"This is not spring!" she whined. "I don't know how you live here!"

He followed her through the hallway and to the front room. She never bothered to turn any of the lights on. She sat down on the floor in the corner by one of the windows. She and adjusted the shade upwards about four inches and then leaned back against the wall.

"Have a seat, Cowboy," she said, opening her beer.

He eyed his options. Along the same wall she was on, within her reach, or smack dab in front of a window. He chose to sit down next to her, his back leaning against the same wall. He opened his beer and took a drink.

They drank in silence for a few moments, occasionally glancing out the window.

Finally she turned her head to look at him. "We've got a problem."

"If you're gonna tell me I got a three-year-old kid, I'm gonna need another beer."

The corner of her mouth edged up. "Cowboy has a sense of humor." He smiled and felt a warmth spread over his face. "But, no. Our problem is somebody wants you dead."

He considered her statement and the luggage that came with it including how she knew it. His muscles tensed a bit. "I'm sure there's a lot of people that want me dead."

She gave a thoughtful nod. "Probably. But in this case it's the US government that wants you dead…"

"What?!"

She continued, "And they're willing to pay an obscene amount of money to get it done."

He felt the adrenaline trickle into his body and felt his muscles start to burn. He asked the question even though he already knew the answer, "And you know this, how?"

"I took the contract."

=-=-=

_It's killing me too  
It stops my heart just to be with you  
So listen cause you are the only one who cares to hear  
Killing Me Too_ by **Sister Hazel**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven ~ Where Do You Go?**

Loki had always been a distraction. Since they first met in that cell in Murmansk. But the two months they spent together in Montana was agonizing.

When she accepted the contract, they stipulated she build a relationship with him and see if she could gather any intel on his military career – by any means possible. She upped the price on the contract, and they gladly paid it.

So Eliot and Loki spent two months building a pretend relationship. It was difficult to spend so much time with her pretending they were together. Sometimes he forgot it wasn't real.

They had come close to making the relationship real several times, but one of them always backed out at the last moment. She said emotions would jeopardize their objectivity and put them both in danger – more danger than what already existed. He said he didn't know who she really was and for some reason that bothered him.

He'd had plenty of one-night stands and never felt compelled to know anything about the woman du jour. But that wasn't enough for him when it came to _her_.

He'd given up on every emotion except anger when he signed on with the Special Forces team. But it was like Loki opened him up and pulled them all back out. In fact, just thinking about her brought all the feelings back. And reliving Montana left him analyzing his affection for a woman he couldn't really know.

"Eliot!" Parker snapped, pulling him out of his thoughts.

"Huh…?" He struggled out of his emotional quick sand and focused on Parker. "What?"

"What happened then?" she prodded.

He hesitated, trying to remember where he had left off. "Uh… we killed Calvin Miller and split the money."

Parker wrinkled her face up. "Who's Calvin Miller?"

"Me, Parker!" Eliot said through gritted teeth. "I **was** Calvin Miller."

"That was your given name?" Hardison asked.

Eliot shook his head. "The special forces unit I was in was so secret it basically didn't exist. All of our identities were changed so there were no ties back to family and friends. We didn't even know each other's real names. The only record of me on government computers was Calvin Miller."

"How did you do it?" Parker asked.

"Do what?" Eliot asked, finding it difficult to follow her, as usual.

"How did you guys kill Cal Miller?"

"Explosion."

"What is it with this chick and explosives?" Hardison asked.

Eliot smiled slightly. "It's like a hobby for her, I guess. Plus it makes it difficult to identify the body."

"Did you ever find out who wanted you dead?" Hardison asked.

He nodded. "Loki was working her back channels the whole two months. She found out for me."

"And…?" Hardison prodded.

"And unlike Cal Miller, he's dead now."

=-=-=

Loki sat stiffly in the dining chair, dressed in an emerald v-neck sweater and jeans that Parker had rescued for her. She looked good. Only Eliot knew the injuries hidden by the clothes. Eliot sat on her right, Sophie on her left. Nate was directly across from her with Parker and Hardison flanking him.

Hardison had his laptop open in the middle of the table and was flipping through surveillance photos Loki had taken.

"Mickey O'Mara," Hardison narrated, "38 years old. His mother is American; his father was Irish giving our boy Mickey dual citizenship. He grew up near Galway, Ireland and moved to Chicago about 5 years ago and established O'Mara Enterprises."

"Which according to information you gathered," Nate directed at Loki, "has ties to a known terrorist organization." Nate studied her for a few moments. "Why haven't you turned him over to the FBI?"

She wrapped both hands around the coffee cup in front of her and pulled it closer. "Because I'm an idiot," she muttered. Nate waited patiently, his blue eyes watching her every move. She finally made eye contact with him. "I didn't want him to go to jail, necessarily… I just wanted him to leave me alone."

"Ha!" Parker gave a sharp laugh and everybody moved their eyes to her. "Leave you alone? It seems to me that you're planning to marry the guy."

"Parker!" Sophie gasped.

"Well it's true," Parker replied. "There were all kinds of pictures of him and her at her house and she's got a really nice diamond ring…"

Loki glanced at Eliot; he couldn't meet her eyes.

"I _was_ going to marry him," Loki said, turning back to Parker. "And yeah, it was a really nice ring. Wish I'd been smart enough to sell it when I had the chance."

Eliot couldn't have been more uncomfortable at that point. It felt like his stomach had suddenly turned to stone. He looked up and saw that Parker, Nate, and Hardison were all looking at him instead of Loki.

"What?" he snapped defensively.

Nate turned his eyes back to Loki. "Maybe you should start at the beginning."

Loki exhaled and looked at Eliot. Eliot met her pleading gaze with a rigid nod of his head. "Oh yeah, you're talking."

"But…!"

"No buts. This is the deal," Eliot said firmly.

She gave him a meaningful glare and then turned back to face Nate. "I don't know how much Eliot's told you about me…"

"We're somewhat familiar with your past work," Nate replied.

"Well, I retired from _that work _about two years ago and moved to Chicago. Now I work at an independent bookstore on Publisher's Row and teach Tae Kwon Do three nights a week."

She exhaled. "I met Mickey at the dojang about a year ago. He was training for his black belt and was always around. He didn't seem interested in me at all, so I was surprised when he invited me to dinner one night. I turned him down. And continued to turn him down for probably two more months.

"I finally gave in, and… and…" she glanced at Eliot. Her eyes were full of emotion. When she continued, her voice was barely a whisper, "He was very good to me. He made me happy…" She turned away from Eliot, looked at Nate and then finally rested her eyes on Parker. "I thought I loved him… It all felt so _normal_. I thought I'd found _it_… For the first time, I saw myself with a future."

Eliot gritted his teeth against the burning pain rolling through his abdomen and climbing into his chest. He studied her as she spoke, wondering if it was an act.

"After awhile, he started inviting me on business trips with him. Ireland, Great Britain, India... He said he was an art and antiquities dealer. Said he was known for 'special requests' from wealthy clients. Said he liked to broker difficult deals that others couldn't…"

"And that didn't raise any red flags for you?" Eliot snapped.

She jerked her head towards him, her eyes full of fire and her voice angry. "I wasn't in that world any more. I tried to leave that distrusting, constant paranoia bullshit behind me."

"And look where it got you," he bit off.

"Eliot!" Sophie scolded.

"I'm sorry, but **this** was your idea!" Loki snapped, pointing a shaking finger at him. "If it were up to me, I'd already be gone!"

"I don't think that's what Eliot meant," Sophie said.

"He's jealous," Parker said with a matter-of-fact-nod.

"Shut up, Parker!" Eliot said, banging his fist on the table. "You don't know what the hell you're talking about!"

"This isn't getting us anywhere!" Nate yelled and everybody else became silent. Nate looked at Eliot. "Can we just get the facts for now?"

Eliot moved his frown from Loki to Nate and waved his arm in Loki's direction.

"Please continue," Nate said to Loki.

Loki was staring angrily at Eliot. Eliot folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair.

She exhaled sharply and turned to Nate. "On a trip to Turkey, Mickey walked me into what he called a client meeting. It ended up being a blood bath over some high tech weaponry. We barely made it out alive… in fact Mickey lost two guys."

"Mercenaries?" Eliot said.

Loki nodded. "He asked me to join up."

"He was recruiting at the dojang, wasn't he?" Eliot asked.

She met his stare. "Yes."

"Wait," Parker said, "So he was just recruiting you?"

Loki turned to her. "That was exactly what I asked him. And he said no. Claimed he fell in love with me first and then decided to bring me into the business."

"He loves you and yet he's willing to put your life in danger on a regular basis?" Hardison asked. "I don't get that."

Loki shifted uncomfortably in her seat, turned and looked at Eliot briefly. "It… uh… has an effect on the relationship that's hard to explain…"

"Really…?" Hardison prodded.

"Some people find it… the sharing danger… the thrill… it's an adrenaline rush…" Loki struggled to explain.

Hardison jerked his head to look at Eliot. Eliot exhaled. "Remember when you hacked into the airplane's control system…?"

Hardison smiled wistfully. "How could I forget?"

"Remember what you said about a female geek…" Eliot said. Hardison nodded. "It's kinda like that except more physical than mental."

A look of understanding appeared on Hardison's face, and it gradually turned into a frown. "You mean when you two are out there busting heads together? That gets you all…"

Eliot cut him off, "**Some** people."

"**Sometimes**," Loki added.

Hardison swung an accusatory finger between them, "I'm not sure that's healthy."

Nate gave a frustrated exhalation. "So he asked you to join up…?" he said, trying to coax Loki back on topic.

"And of course you agreed," Eliot snapped.

"No," she said, matching Eliot's angry tone, "I didn't. I was pissed that he'd drug me into a gunfight without a word of warning. I told him he could go to hell."

"But obviously that didn't work," Nate said.

She shook her head. "That was when I got the first glance at Mickey's dark side. It was obvious he wasn't going to just let me go."

"And you didn't think you could take him?" Eliot asked skeptically.

She turned her emerald eyes on him, "It wasn't just a matter of beating him in a fight. I would have to kill him."

"One of _those_ guys," Parker said knowingly.

"So you couldn't kill him?" Eliot needled.

"Eliot, enough!" Nate barked.

But Loki ignored Nate. "Just like I couldn't kill you!" she retorted. "And you and I shared a lot less than Mickey and I."

He felt like she had punched him in the face. Nate jerked his head from Eliot to Loki and back again, his eyes wide in surprise.

There was a long, tense silence as Eliot tried to come up with a retort. But all he could do was look into her beautiful, angry face and think about how she had just compared him to O'Mara and declared him the runner up.

It was Sophie who finally tried to bring the conversation back, "So that's when you started collecting information on Mickey?"

Loki held her glare on Eliot a moment more before turning to Sophie. "Pretty much. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with it, but… well, it's what I was trained to do."

"Where did the marriage proposal come in?" Sophie asked.

"He proposed to me in Paris after the first job I worked with him," she replied.

Sophie frowned. "And he was sincere?"

"Yeah," Loki replied.

Parker stepped in, "He's one of _those_ guys. They _call_ it love… hell, they _think_ it's love, but it's not. It's more about possession and control."

"Yes, exactly," Loki said with a nod.

"So you agree to marry him," Eliot said.

She looked at him. "I didn't have much of a choice…"

"Oh, you had a choice," Eliot said, "You just didn't want to make it."

"I had nothing on him yet!" she snapped. "And you're right, I still wasn't to the point where I thought he needed to be dead."

"What about after the warehouse?" Eliot continued his needling.

"Yeah, that did it," she replied.

"So, the warehouse…" Nate said, pulling Loki's attention away from Eliot, "Mickey found out you were collecting intel on him?"

She shook her head. "I still don't think he knows what I've got on him."

Nate looked confused. "Then why…?"

She exhaled slowly. "Last week I told Mickey I didn't want to marry him. I told him I wasn't going to be part of his mercenary organization any longer."

"You didn't threaten him with this stuff?" Nate asked, motioning toward the computer.

"No."

Eliot's stomach churned. He looked at her. "You're kidding me."

She looked at him, all the anger gone, and shook her head.

"So the warehouse was about trying to... uh... convince you to stay?" Nate asked.

"Yes," she said softly, keeping her eyes on Eliot.

Eliot looked at Nate, "We've got no choice but to take him out."

"No, that shouldn't be necessary" Sophie interrupted, turning to Loki. "We can help you disappear."

Loki leaned back into her chair and Eliot was able to make eye contact with Sophie. "He'll find her."

"We'll make sure he **can't** find her," Hardison said.

Eliot turned his attention to the man across the table. "You don't understand. He's probably got three guys just like you on his staff."

Loki nodded. "He wouldn't stop until he found me."

"We could do a Calvin Miller," Parker said.

"A what?" Nate asked.

"She's saying we could fake Loki's death," Eliot said. Nate gave him a questioning look. "I'll explain later."

"I want to thank you all for your help," Loki said, "But I don't want to endanger you any more than I already have. I'll take care of this on my own."

"Let me guess," Hardison said, "You're going to blow him up?"

Nate got up, took a few steps away from the dining table, and looked out the windows.

Loki nodded at Hardison. "Him **and **his house **and **his office **and **that God-forsaken warehouse."

"I'm not going to let you take him on alone," Eliot said quietly. She turned to look in his eyes. He felt himself getting lost in the emerald depths.

Sophie spoke, "What are you thinking, Nate?"

Nate turned around. "I'm thinking that unleashing these two…" he motioned toward Loki and Eliot, "on Chicagoland with a bunch of C-4 puts us **all** at risk."

"So, what's the plan?" Parker asked.

=-=-=

_Where do you go and what do you do?  
When all you have has been taken from you?  
Where do you go and what do you do?  
_When you lose everything you ever knew?  
_Where Do You Go?_ by **Sister Hazel**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight ~ Firefly**

Eliot was slamming balls around the billiard table unmercifully. He knew she was watching him. He was aware of her every movement. Her every word. He knew the exact moment that she started to walk toward him even though he had his back to her.

He took his shot, striking the cue ball harder than necessary and watched the resulting colorful chaos with a certain satisfaction. She came to a stop at his right elbow.

"Hardison doesn't have a heavy bag so you're taking it out on the billiard balls?" she asked softly.

He glanced at her. "Something like that." He held her eyes for a moment and then walked away, circling the table, looking for his next shot.

"Hardly seems fair," she said, trailing behind him.

He selected his next shot and leaned toward the table. She swiftly slid in between him and the table, leaning her perfect butt against the table. He straightened up and pulled away from her. She grabbed his shirt and held him at arm's length.

"You wanna talk about what's bothering you, Cowboy?" she asked softly.

The muscles of his face tensed involuntarily. He checked the location of the others. Nate, Hardison, and Sophie were huddled around Hardison's computer desk. Parker was lying on the couch watching TV and twirling her hair around her finger.

"Are you pissed that I called you for help?" she asked.

He was horrified. "No! Of course not!"

"Are you mad that they're involved now?" she asked, motioning her head at the others. "Because I've released you all from any further involvement…"

"No, this is exactly the kind of thing _we_ do…" he said. "And Nate's plan is solid. It's the best way…"

"Then what is it? Why are you so mad at me?"

He stared into her eyes for a moment. "How could you fall for this guy, Loki? I thought you were smarter than that!"

She let go of his shirt, lowered her head, and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, her irises were clouded over and looked more gray than green. "He was good to me," she said half-heartedly. "He treated me like a princess…"

"Yeah," Eliot snarled, "right up to the point where he dropped you in the middle of a gun fight and then let his pals beat you with a pipe."

She examined his face and then gave a quiet snort. "C'mon Eliot… You of all people should know that just because a person is capable of awful things doesn't mean he's not capable of wonderful things too."

He opened his mouth in his defense and then realized she was right. "But, you can't believe he really loves you…"

"I think it's just like Parker said. Mickey _thinks_ he loves me, but what he really wants is to own me." She ran her eyes over his face. "So, you're mad that I fell in love with him?"

He gritted his teeth. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Or maybe you're mad that I fell in love with somebody other than you?"

Eliot pointed angrily in Parker's direction. "Don't go believing everything Parker says," he growled softly, "She's a thief, not a psychiatrist!"

She tilted her head and looked more intently into his eyes. "Did you think I'd just wait around for you forever?"

"What?! I never thought…!"

She cut him off, "Do you ever think about me at all, Eliot?"

His mind said, _I think about more than I want to!_ But what came out his mouth was an angry retort, "Well, you sure haven't been thinking about **me** this past year, have you?"

Her expression saddened. "Actually, I have. I think about you all the time... Mickey is the first guy I've dated seriously in seven years. Seven years…! And when I realized I was just using him to fill the void you left… well, that's when I told him I wouldn't marry him and that I wanted out of the business."

Her words were so unexpected that it took a moment for him to realize what she was saying. His throat tightened and he had trouble speaking. "Are you saying you broke it off with him because of me?"

"Yes."

"Were you planning on telling me?"

"I called as soon as I could."

The anguish in her voice rippled through his muscles. "Dammit, Loki! This isn't fair!" He reached out for her with his free hand, and then pulled back. He caught sight of Nate out of the corner of his eye.

Nate approached slowly, clearing his throat loudly. When Eliot looked at him, he said, "Everything's in place. You ready to make the call?"

"Yeah, sure," Loki said, moving away from him.

Nate turned and headed back towards Hardison's desk. Eliot caught Loki's hand before she was out of reach. "Hey!" he whispered, pulling her back.

"Yeah?" she asked, searching his eyes.

"We're not done with this talk."

She smiled.

=-=-=

Hardison put his cell on speaker. He, Nate, and Sophie sat around his computer desk; Parker was perched on one edge. Loki and Eliot stood near the phone, too full of nervous energy to sit.

"Hello?" a husky, male voice with slight Irish accent answered.

"It's me," Loki said.

There was a brief silence and then, "Melissa, my love! Are you alright? Where have you been? I've been so worried about you!"

Eliot was surprised at how sincere the prick sounded.

"Bullshit, Mickey," she said.

Another brief silence and then a hearty laugh. "You're right, of course. I've always known you can take care of yourself. But really, love, what you did in the warehouse… that was amazing. Are you okay?"

"Like you care."

"I do care," he crooned. "I love you. If anybody else had killed Padraig, they would already be dead. He was going to be our best man, you know."

She exhaled, "We don't need a best man because I'm not marrying you."

"Oh, don't say that, love. You're breaking my heart."

"You don't have a heart."

"How can you doubt my love after all we've been through together? Surely God in Heaven made you specifically for me. We're perfect together. On jobs and in bed… how can you deny it?"

A bitter taste crawled up Eliot's throat and settled in his mouth. Loki wouldn't look at him.

Loki shook her head. "It's over, Mickey. I'm leaving town and I don't want you to come looking for me."

The tone of his voice changed, taking on a sinister quality. "There's no where you can hide from me, my love."

Sophie shivered. Parker made a face like she was a four-year-old being forced to eat spinich. Eliot made fists with his hands.

Loki looked at Nate and he gave a reaffirming nod. When she spoke, her tone matched O'Mara's. "Listen to me, you son-of-a-bitch. You have no idea what I'm capable of. What you found in the warehouse? That was nothing. If you pursue me, you will regret it."

There was a long pause. When he finally responded, his voice was softer. "I'm sorry."

Loki's eyes widened in surprise. Hardison jerked back in his chair and threw up his hands. Eliot's stomach shimmied.

"What did you say?" Loki asked.

"I'm sorry about… the warehouse… I was just so afraid of losing you…"

"So you beat the hell out of me?" she exclaimed.

Nate made a face and shook his head furiously. He stabbed his two index fingers together trying to get her back on track.

"Please be patient with me, love. This is the first time I've felt emotions this intense… I was scared and I reacted badly…"

Hardison rolled his eyes. Loki stared at the phone. Nate and Sophie stared at Loki, horrified looks on their faces. Eliot stepped up to Loki, breaking the spell. He put his hands on her shoulders and she looked into his eyes. He slowly pulled back his right hand as if he were going to slap her. He raised an eyebrow.

She smiled slightly and shook her head. No, she didn't need him to slap some sense into her. He released his grip on her, pointed two fingers at her eyes and then pointed to his eyes. She nodded.

"Melissa…? Love…? Are you still there?" O'Mara asked.

Keeping her eyes on Eliot, she spoke, "Meet me in an hour at Navy Pier ferris wheel."

Nate's head bobbed, no doubt surprised at how quickly she got from apologies to the bottom line – the set up.

"The site of our first date," O'Mara said, a smile sounding in his voice. "That's poignant."

"I'm not promising you anything, Mickey. I'm just saying we should talk in person."

"I understand, love."

"And I mean **alone**."

"Yes, of course. Anything you want…"

"If I see any of your pals, I'll be gone before you can set eyes on me," she said firmly. "Do you understand?"

"I look forward to seeing you, love."

She looked away from Eliot long enough to point at Hardison. He ended the call.

"Well, that was interesting," Hardison said.

"I feel like I need to take a shower," Parker said.

"I thought we'd lost you there for a second," Nate said.

Her eyes were still on Eliot as she answered, "Not a chance."

**=-=-=**

_She has a subtle way_  
_Of making you forget your darkness  
Behind some clever conversation  
No finer heart, could ever beat for you  
Firefly _by **Sister Hazel**

**Author's Note: **I'll be taking requests at the end of this fic, so be thinking about if there's anything you want me to elaborate on or explore more… something you didn't get enough of in this fic. Just post your request in a review or contact me through a message. There's only a few chapters left to this one.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **The part of Mickey O'Mara is played by Jason O'Mara (from Life on Mars and previously on The Agency). Although, now that I think about it, maybe not everybody would consider him a "pretty boy" type. Hmmm.

**Chapter Nine ~ We Build Then We Break**

They broke up into two teams and left immediately. Hardison, Nate, and Eliot in the van with their dark suits with fake DHS credentials; Sophie, Parker, and Loki in the car. The girls would drop Loki off in front of the family pavilion at Navy Pier and she would proceed to the Ferris wheel just incase they had to go to Plan B. If Plan A were successful, the guys would intercept O'Mara, Sophie and Parker would go scout out O'Mara's home, and Loki would find her way back to Hardison's loft on her own.

Nate parked the van along East Grand near the parking garage Loki said O'Mara preferred. Eliot felt unusually tense as they waited. His stomach burned, and his muscles were pulsing. He had trouble focusing his thoughts. It didn't help that Nate kept glancing at him through the rear view mirror.

"What?" Eliot asked finally.

"Where's your head at?" Nate asked.

"On neutralizing O'Mara," Eliot responded.

Nate nodded half-heartedly. "Usually your anger is helpful in these kinds of situations," he said. "But this time…"

"This time _what_?" Eliot growled.

"Well, there's obviously other emotions involved here, and that worries me. I'm afraid I can't count on you."

"Yeah," Hardison chimed in beside him, "Like when you rode off on that horse during the job in Kentucky."

"Exactly," Nate said, pointing at Hardison in agreement.

Anger rolled around Eliot's stomach. It wasn't bad enough that they were talking about it, but the communication line was open so the women were hearing it also.

"You can count on me," Eliot said firmly.

Nate looked from Eliot to Hardison and back again. "I'm just saying things will go better here if you can… detach yourself from what happened at the warehouse and what may or may not be going on between you and her…"

"Got it," Eliot gritted. He was relieved to spot a red car coming towards them. "He's here," he said pointing out the windshield.

O'Mara drove his red Mazda RX8 into the parking garage and Nate followed. O'Mara slid into a space and Nate stopped the van behind him, blocking him in.

Eliot was out the door before Nate got the van in park. "Hey!" Nate snapped. Eliot paused and looked back at him. "You're DHS. Be government polite."

Eliot responded with a low growl, and moved toward the sports car. O'Mara had just unfolded his tall frame from the driver's seat when Eliot stepped up to him. O'Mara gave a cautious look at Eliot and then the van. He closed the car door and took a step back, falling into a loose fighting stance.

Eliot had the creds in his hand and flashed them. "Department of Homeland Security. Sir, I need you to come with me." As he shoved the creds in his inner jacket pocket, he made sure O'Mara got a good look at the Sig Sauer 35-caliber under his arm.

"What? Why?" O'Mara asked.

Hardison and Nate were out of the van and standing behind Eliot. O'Mara ran his nervous eyes over them.

"We have some questions for you," Eliot said. "Now if you'll just put your hands on the car here so I can make sure you're not carrying any weapons."

O'Mara's eyes shifted between them. "I… uh… maybe I should call my lawyer…"

"Not necessary, sir," Eliot said grabbing his arm, hoping he would resist. But he didn't. He let Eliot throw him against the car, spread his arms, and then kick his legs apart. Eliot ran his hands over O'Mara's torso and found a gun in a shoulder holster under his leather jacket.

"Really?" Eliot said, grabbing the pistol and pulling it free. "You do know that carrying a concealed weapon is a felony, right?"

"You don't understand…" O'Mara said. "There's been some kind of mistake."

Hardison stepped forward and took the gun so Eliot could continue the search. "No mistake, sir, that's definitely a concealed weapon."

Eliot frowned at Hardison as he finished the search. He found a butterfly knife in an inner jacket pocket, and a 22-caliber in an ankle holster. He pocketed both weapons and then fished out O'Mara's cell phone and wallet and handed them to Hardison.

"What are you doing?" O'Mara yelled.

Eliot pulled the handcuffs from his belt. "Don't worry, sir. You'll get them back… probably." He pulled O'Mara's hands behind his back and fitted the cuffs on his wrists. He jerked O'Mara off the car and started pushing him roughly towards the van.

"There's been a mistake!" O'Mara cried. "I want to talk to my lawyer!"

As Nate moved around toward the driver's door, Eliot heard his voice over the communication link, "We've got him. On our way out." The tension in his stomach eased, knowing Loki was safe and on her way back to Hardison's.

Nate climbed into the driver's seat. Hardison stepped into the van and slid over by the window. Eliot did a quick leg sweep and threw O'Mara down on his face on the cement.

"Ow!" O'Mara complained.

"Careful, sir," Eliot said, yanking him back to his feet. He pushed O'Mara toward the van.

"This is police brutality!" O'Mara yelled right before Eliot shoved him into the passenger door on the van.

"We're not the police," Eliot growled, yanking him back and pushing forward into the open side door.

O'Mara stumbled under Eliot's force, landing with his torso in the van and his feet still on the pavement. Eliot put a hand on his jacket and pulled him up. "Have you been drinking, sir?"

"No… I…!"

Eliot pushed him into the van. O'Mara fell across the middle seat, his face landing in Hardison's lap. The ridiculous sight made Eliot smile. Hardison and Nate both scolded him with meaningful frowns.

Hardison pulled O'Mara into a sitting position. Eliot climbed into the van, shut the door, and slid in next to O'Mara.

As Nate pulled away, Eliot pushed forcefully on the back of O'Mara's head, slamming his forehead into the back of Nate's seat. "Keep your head down, sir."

O'Mara shook his head slightly and tried to sit back up. Eliot smacked him in the back of the head again. "No, seriously. Keep your head down."

Eliot didn't miss the disapproving glare from Nate through the mirror. But he didn't care.

"Where are you taking me?" O'Mara asked.

"We don't have to tell you that," Eliot snarled.

O'Mara did his best to look at Eliot without lifting his forehead from the back of Nate's seat. "The hell you don't! I want to talk to my attorney!"

"Sir," Hardison said, "I think things will go much more smoothly if you remember these two words: Patriot Act."

=-=-=

Nate drove to the building on Monroe where they had secured a floor thanks to Hardison's wizardry. It was a modest 15-story building that was being renovated and was mostly empty. They used a badge to access the underground parking area, and to activate the elevator.

The elevator deposited them on the seventh floor and Hardison lead the way to the fake office. Hardison held his ID near the card reader. There was a beeping sound and the door unlocked. To Eliot's surprise, there were people inside the office. There was a receptionist in the lobby who barely looked up from her computer to nod at them as they passed. And in a conference room, there was a man and woman both wearing dark suits, arguing over a bunch of paper spread over the table.

Hardison lead them to the back corner, and into a small room with a metal table, two chairs, and a mirror. Eliot pushed O'Mara into the chair, "Have a seat."

Nate followed them into the room and closed the door. Hardison took position in the other room and watched them through the one-way glass while he bugged O'Mara's cell.

Nate looked at Eliot and then nodded at O'Mara. "I think it's safe to remove the cuffs."

"I dunno, boss," Eliot growled. "He looks dangerous to me."

Nate looked at O'Mara. "You're prepared to cooperate, yes?"

"Yes, of course," O'Mara said carefully. Eliot could hear the tension in his voice.

"The cuffs," Nate said nodding again.

As Eliot leaned down to unlock the cuffs, he said, "Any time you wanna try some of that Tae Kwon Do crap, I'm ready."

O'Mara gave him a concerned look over his shoulder.

"Excuse, my associate," Nate said, "He's not usually this irritable. He's trying to give up coffee."

Eliot frowned at Nate and then stepped to the side placing himself between O'Mara and the door. Nate stepped up to the table and opened the file folder that was lying there. He carefully spread the contents out.

O'Mara looked warily from Nate to the table. Nate was focusing him on the surveillance photos Hardison had created with Photoshop. Some were just of O'Mara, some just Loki, and some of the two of them together.

"You recognize this woman?" Nate asked.

"Of course. She's my fiancée."

"Ha!" Eliot snarled.

O'Mara looked at him.

"See, we know you're officially engaged and all that," Nate said, bringing O'Mara's attention back to him, "but there's been some wagering around the office that it's just a cover and you're using her for a job."

O'Mara paled visibly and looked nervously from Nate to Eliot and back again. "A job? I don't know what you're talking about. She's my fiancée."

Nate looked at Eliot. "See, I told you he's innocent."

"Pffft! Innocent my ass," Eliot replied.

Nate looked back at O'Mara. "No, I really don't think he knows who he's got sleeping in his bed."

Eliot gritted his teeth at Nate's choice of words.

Nate moved the surveillance photos aside to show Loki's faked Interpol rap sheet. "The woman you know as Melissa Shaw is actually an assassin known to us as The Raptor."

"What?" O'Mara exclaimed, grabbing the Interpol page. "That's impossible…!"

Eliot fought a smile as he watched the emotions display on O'Mara's face. This new information put what happened in the warehouse in a whole different light.

"I assure you, it's not impossible," Nate said. "Although it isn't like her to stay in one spot for this long."

"We thought you were her mark," Eliot added. "We were hoping to arrest her in the act."

"Yeah, but you're still alive," Nate said, a sad tone in his voice.

"Yeah," Eliot said, mimicking Nate's tone. "So now we're thinking you're working with her."

O'Mara looked back and forth between Nate and Eliot. "I'm not… I had no idea…!"

"And now she seems to be missing, which really makes us nervous," Nate said.

Eliot took a step closer to O'Mara. "Where is she?" he growled.

"I… I don't know."

Eliot looked at Nate, "He's lying. He's protecting her."

"Hmmmm, you might be right," Nate said looking at Eliot.

"No! No! You're wrong!" O'Mara pleaded.

"Maybe we should take a closer look at his business… what's it called?" Nate asked.

"O'Mara Enterprises," Eliot answered. "Importer or something. Obviously a cover…"

"Yeah, what kind of businessman has to carry concealed weapons?" Nate said. "Probably won't take too much digging for us to find out what's really going on there…"

"I don't know where she is!" O'Mara said. "I haven't seen her for several days! I was on my way to meet her when you arrested me!"

"You're not under arrest," Nate said.

"She's your fiancée," Eliot said with a frown. "How could you not know where she's been?"

"She's…" O'Mara fidgeted in his chair. "She's mad at me. She wants to call off the wedding."

"She's an experienced assassin," Nate laughed. "I'd let her if I were you."

"And you were going to meet her at Navy Pier?" Eliot asked with a skeptical tone.

"Yes, we were going to talk…"

"You sure she was just planning on talking?" Eliot asked. He enjoyed watching the realization spread over O'Mara's face.

"I… I thought…"

"You might have really needed those weapons," Eliot said thoughtfully.

"Please, I'm telling you, I had no idea…" O'Mara pleaded.

"Okay, look," Nate said, "If you cooperate with us, help us bring her in, then we won't go poking around in your business."

O'Mara looked nervously from Nate to Eliot. "We can't guarantee that some other agency won't go digging, but they won't hear about it from us," Eliot said.

"Are you willing to work with us?" Nate asked.

O'Mara was quiet for a long moment. He looked back down at the Interpol page in his hands. "Yes," he said softly. And for a moment, Eliot almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

"Good," Nate said. "We need you to set up another meeting with her…"

He shook his head. "I don't know how to get a hold of her…"

"C'mon!" Eliot snapped.

"I don't! **She** called **me**!"

Nate exhaled. "Okay, then wait for her call. Agree to meet her wherever she wants whenever she wants. And then call us." Nate slid a plain white business card with the name Steve Maxwell and a phone number on it.

O'Mara stared blankly at the card. "What if she doesn't call? What if she won't meet?"

"It sounds like she's trying to clean house," Eliot said. "She **will** call, and she **will** suggest another meeting."

"Yeah, he should probably wear a vest," Nate said to Eliot. Then he turned to look at O'Mara, "You got a Kevlar vest?"

"Uh…" O'Mara hesitated shifting his eyes from Nate to Eliot. "Uh… no."

Eliot gave a fake laugh, "Of course he doesn't have a vest. He's just a businessman. Why would he have a vest?"

There was a brief knock at the door and Hardison walked in carrying a vest. He handed it to O'Mara and then set the cell phone and wallet down on the table.

Hardison looked at Nate and then Eliot. "We done here?"

=-=-=

_I don't know you but I know what you did to her  
She told me and I happen to believe her too…_  
_We Build Then We Break_ by **The Fray**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten ~ Say When**

They could hear the girls laughing as they approached the door to loft. Hardison opened the door and the women turned to look at them. It might have been Eliot's imagination, but they looked guilty of _something._ They struggled to control their laughing. Eliot got the distinct impression they were talking about him.

"Everything go okay?" Sophie asked.

"For the most part," Nate said, sliding his eyes sideways at Eliot.

Sophie got up and followed them. "The most part?"

"O'Mara tripped a couple of times," Eliot said.

"Kept smacking his face into things, like a closed door," Hardison offered.

"Hey, is it my fault if the guy's a klutz?" Eliot said, slipping out of the suit jacket.

"I've got the interrogation on video," Hardison said, sitting down at his computer. "These two," he waved a hand between Nate and Eliot, "have really got the good cop – bad cop routine down. Get some popcorn!"

Parker leaped off the couch and headed for the kitchen area. Nate moved toward the liquor cabinet with Sophie in tow. Eliot grabbed a couple of beers from the refrigerator and joined Loki on the couch.

She took a beer from him and gave him a brief smile. "So you and Mickey didn't hit it off?"

He took a quick drink. "He's a prick."

"I know," she said, taking a drink.

"But he sure is pretty," Eliot said.

"I know," she said with a small nod.

"I didn't think pretty boys were your type."

"It's not about the looks with me," she said. "It's the attitude. I've always been a sucker for the bad-boy archetype."

He gave a short laugh. "Well, he is _that_…"

She looked down at her hands, "You think he fell for it?"

He nodded and took another drink. "You should have seen his face when we told him you were probably looking to kill him. He was devastated."

"Good," she said with a nod. She took a long drink. When she was done, she lowered her beer and lifted her other hand. She opened it to reveal a huge diamond ring. "Was this your idea?"

He shook his head, and took the ring from her hand to examine it more closely. "It was all Parker. But I thought it was a great idea."

"I just can't believe she could steal it from Mickey's place so easily," she marveled.

"That's Parker," Eliot shrugged, watching the emerald cut diamond sparkle in response to any slight movement. "What is this thing? Like five carats?"

She shook her head, "Just three."

He looked at her, "You know what they say about guys who give big rings…"

She smiled, "Yeah, they're trying to compensate for something."

He gave a half smile and set the ring back in her palm. "Would you say that's the case here?" he asked.

She pressed her lips together, "You really don't want to go there, do you?"

"Just looking for weaknesses."

"Uh huh, well, good luck with that," she murmured, looking back down at the ring. "At least this will make for a nice down payment on a beach house somewhere."

"Somewhere?"

She looked at him again. "Somewhere relatively warm. I haven't thought much past that."

"California has a few beaches."

She moved her eyes over his face. "Is that where you call home nowadays, Cowboy?"

He shook his head slightly, "I wouldn't call it _that_, but it's where I spend a lot of my time lately."

She studied his eyes for several long moments. "You really think that would be a good idea?" she asked. "You and me living in the same place…? A place that is already prone to natural disasters?"

He gave her a slight smile. "It might be the only place that can handle us."

"Ya think?" she laughed.

He watched her as she took another drink. "It's a start at least," he said, putting his free hand on her thigh. She lowered her beer and looked at him. "Listen, when this thing is finished, I want you fly back to LA with us…"

Her eyes were scrutinizing every feature of his face. "Why?"

"We've got follow up to do. We'll monitor O'Mara and make sure you're not in danger."

"You don't need me in LA to do that," she said. "Plus I'm a big girl, Eliot, I can take care of myself."

His face started to burn. He lowered his voice even more, "I thought you would want to come to LA… you said… " He jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of billiard table, "…what you said earlier…!"

She gave him a blank look and he scowled.

Finally she said, "Oh, you think since I called off the wedding because of you, that means I'm going to follow you around like a puppy? Move to LA because you're there?"

He gave a low growl in his throat. "That's not what I meant! Why are you making this **so** difficult?" He applied pressure on her thigh with his fingers.

She squirmed and fought a smile. "Why can't you just say you're crazy about me and want me to move to LA so you can see more of me?"

Eliot continued to apply pressure and by the time she was finished speaking, she was laughing and trying to get out from under his hold.

"Yeah, I'm crazy," he whispered, moving his face closer to hers, "and you're the cause..."

Eliot heard Nate loudly clearing his throat. "Uh… sorry to interrupt…"

Eliot gave another low growl and Loki smiled mischievously. He reluctantly pulled away from her and turned to look at Nate.

"It sounds like O'Mara is working on a serious bender down on Rush Street. I think we should use that to our advantage and finish this thing tonight."

=-=-=

Eliot waited at the door as Loki got last minute advice from Nate and Hardison. He replayed their conversation in his mind. It hadn't gone the way he wanted it to. What had started out as a simple conversation had quickly transformed into a confrontation, then an argument, and ended with him being engulfed in lust and wanting so much more. It was like Montana. And Murmansk. It was comforting and familiar but there was also the thrill of something new and different. The anticipation was killing him.

Sophie approached as he watched Loki talk with Nate.

"I don't think I've ever seen that look on your face before," Sophie said, stopping near his left elbow.

Eliot glanced at her, not wanting to respond at all. "Same old look. Same old face," he grumbled.

"No," she said, shaking her head, "this one's new." She turned her eyes toward Loki. "She really is lovely, Eliot."

"Uh huh," Eliot agreed warily, turning his attention back to Loki.

"And you two seem very… comfortable with each other."

"Uh huh."

Sophie turned to face him, "You're not going to let her go a third time, are you?"

"Sophie, I…" he stumbled over his thoughts. He folded his arms across his chest and angled his body toward her. "It's not that simple."

"Seems to me that things are as simple as they're going to get for you and her. She's retired, you're… somewhat stable," she said with a smile. "There's never been a better time."

Eliot looked over at Loki and caught her looking at him. He felt a gentle heat move over his face. He looked back at Sophie. "Like you and Nate? Never been a better time?"

"Nate and I?" she said, giving a wistful look in Nate's direction. "Nate and I have the luxury of time." She turned back to him. "As long as the team stays together, we've got time. But, Loki… come tomorrow morning, she'll be gone. Unless you give her a reason not to go."

Eliot was quiet for a moment and then leaned over and put his lips near her ear, "Yeah, well, let me share a big secret with you: I'm not really good with relationships."

She examined his face as he pulled away. She smiled. "Yes, I can imagine. But maybe you just need some practice."

Loki approached, pulling on a denim jacket. "You ready, Cowboy?"

"Yes," Sophie said with a wink at Eliot, "I believe he is."

=-=-=

Like most things with Loki, watching her say goodbye to the students at Walker's Tae Kwon Do was interesting… and… frustrating. She bowed to each kid and then knelt down in front of him or her, said something encouraging, and then gave each one a hug. Many of them cried. Eliot didn't miss that every guy over the age of 15 gave her a hug… even the black belts. The women, with the exception of a black belt with long blond hair, just shook her hand.

But Loki didn't start crying until she hugged Master Mitch Walker. And Eliot wondered.

He tried to shake away the unfamiliar feeling as they walked to the car. He opened the door for her and she stopped and looked at him, her head tilted.

"What?" he asked.

She ran her eyes over him and then the car door and smiled. "Nothing."

She started to lean down to get in the car, but he stopped her. "Hey, you okay?"

She nodded. "I just hate farewell scenes," she said. "I usually try to avoid them."

"Yeah, me too," he said with a nod.

She slipped into the seat and he closed the door. As he walked around the front of the car, he turned on his earpiece. "Nate?"

"Yeah, Eliot?"

"We're on our way to the park."

"Good. Let us know what it looks like when you get there."

By the time they drove across town and found a parking place it was near 10:00. They walked casually through Grant Park toward Buckingham Fountain. They encountered a lot of people walking away from the fountain; the final light and music show for the day complete.

When they reached the fountain, Eliot did a quick head count. "Nate? We're at the fountain… there's about 30 people in the immediate area," he reported.

"Let us know when it gets down around 15," Nate replied.

"Will do."

They looked at each other for an awkward moment.

"Tourists or date?" she asked.

"Uh…" he glanced around at the other people. "Date."

She slipped under his arm. He had forgotten how perfectly she fit there. He slid his left hand into her jeans pocket.

They walked slowly around the fountain. He noticed that her head was turned toward the fountain most of the time.

"This is one of my favorite spots in the whole world," she said.

He stopped and looked around with fresh eyes. The fountain lights were still on, giving the water the color of captured moonlight. He looked out toward the lake and then back at the city lights. The fountain muted the sound of the city, and if he listened carefully, he could even hear the lake. He breathed in deeply. He could smell the heavily chlorinated water of the fountain, the lake, the leaves turning on the trees, but mostly her. Vanilla and rosewood.

He tightened his arm around her. "Yeah, I can see why."

They stood in silence for several minutes. He found it difficult to focus on the job, standing with her like this. His mind was filled with things he wanted to say to her but that he knew he probably never would. And questions. He had lots of questions for her.

Knowing the entire team could hear their conversation, he settled on asking, "Why Chicago?"

She looked up at him, "What?"

"Why did you choose to retire to Chicago? It's cold here, like what? Nine months out of the year?"

She smiled. "I grew up about two hours from here. I was always fascinated by this city. Always wanted to visit it. But my parents… they were too afraid of the city to ever bring me here." She looked back at the fountain. "So, when they died, I hopped on the train the first chance I got and came up here…" She returned her eyes to him, "When I think about home, I think about Chicago."

He studied her for a moment. "I have to ask: was that the truth or are you reciting an old cover story?"

She ran her eyes over his face, searching for something, and then tilted her head. "Need I remind you that you have now seen me naked?"

There was a choking noise over the earpiece. Had to be Hardison.

"No, no, I remember that quite clearly," he said.

"I thought that was your requirement for trusting a woman," she said.

Another strangled sound came through the earpiece.

"No, that's just the first step," Eliot countered. "I learned that lesson back in Murmansk."

She studied him a bit longer and then said, "It's not a cover. I grew up in central Illinois. My parents were killed by a drunk driver. I moved up here."

"All by yourself?" he asked. She nodded. "How old were you?"

"Barely 18."

He thought about that for a moment. "So, you were happy here?"

She looked up at him. "Yeah, as happy as I could be having just lost my parents."

He nodded. "What about now?"

"Am I happy now?" she asked.

"Not now at this moment, but when you first moved here," he clarified.

"No, definitely not," she replied. "I didn't want to retire, you know. I really liked my job."

"Yeah, I figured."

She looked at the fountain. "But then when Mickey… well, it was the best of both worlds. I got to choose which operations I participated in… it was just enough to keep me… energized. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "That's one of the reasons I went out on my own in the first place."

Nate's voice interrupted them, "How's the park looking?"

Eliot glanced around. "Down to 20 or so."

"Close enough," Nate said. "Let's make that call."

=-=-=

She gave O'Mara an hour to meet her near Buckingham Fountain. Eliot waited with her on a park bench, his arm still wrapped around her, listening to the transpiring events over their earpieces.

O'Mara called Nate immediately. Nate, Hardison, and Parker picked up O'Mara at the 35-minute mark. Blaming the public location, they refused to let O'Mara carry any weapons.

Parker dropped Nate, Hardison, and O'Mara at the edge of park with 10 minutes to spare. At that point, Eliot left Loki on the bench and took up a position near the fountain, about 10 yards away from her. The area was mostly empty by that time; the fountain and most of the lights had been turned off for the evening.

Within a few minutes, Nate appeared on the opposite side of the fountain, looked around and started to walk casually around the fountain. He relayed Loki's location and Eliot's location over the earpiece to Hardison.

A couple of minutes passed before O'Mara appeared. He looked around, and walked stiffly toward Loki, moving in the opposite direction Nate was. As O'Mara closed the distance between him and Loki, Hardison appeared, following in O'Mara's footsteps, pretending to be talking on his cell.

Loki came to her feet as O'Mara neared. Eliot slid closer to them. Nate and Hardison slowly moved closer.

O'Mara hesitated and then grabbed Loki and pulled her into his arms. "Melissa…" he whispered. "I'm so sorry…"

He stepped away from her and Loki started to tear into him. "You should be, you horse's ass!"

That was Eliot's cue. He moved swiftly toward Loki, pulling the Sig Sauer from the back of his jeans but leaving the safety on. His stomach quivered as he pointed it at Loki. "Department of Homeland Security! Freeze!" he yelled.

Hardison and Nate moved in quickly, pulling their guns and pointing them at Loki.

Loki gave O'Mara an angry look. "What the hell have you done to me?!" she yelled, pulling a Browning 10 mm from the back of her jeans.

Their timing was perfect. Eliot reached her just as she leveled her gun on O'Mara. O'Mara cowered. Eliot threw a weak crescent kick at Loki's hand and she released the gun, flinging it into the bushes behind her. Hardison went after the gun.

Eliot grabbed Loki with one hand and spun her around. She struggled against him, yelling at O'Mara, "I'm gonna kill you, Mickey!"

Nate stepped up next to O'Mara, put a firm hand on his shoulder and tried to escort him away, but O'Mara stood firm.

"I'm so sorry, Melissa, but I didn't have a choice!"

Eliot put Loki face first into the gravel and tucked his gun away. Hardison, having retrieved Loki's gun, hurried to take his place on the other side of O'Mara. Together he and Nate started to move O'Mara away.

Loki continued to struggle against Eliot and yell at O'Mara. "I can't believe I ever trusted you, you piece of shit!"

It worked -- it kept O'Mara looking back. He saw Eliot put the cuffs on Loki and yank her to her feet. He heard Eliot say, "I'd read you your rights, but under the Patriot Act you don't have any."

Eliot pushed Loki in the opposite direction as O'Mara was headed. "I'll see you in hell, Mickey!"

Once they were out of O'Mara's sight, Eliot unlocked the handcuffs and together they sprinted to the car.

"I'll see you in hell?" Eliot repeated.

She laughed. "Was that over the top?"

"Little bit," Eliot said with a snort.

"Sorry. I'm out of practice."

They listened as Nate and Hardison wrapped up the loose ends with O'Mara. He seemed suddenly concerned about the security surrounding 'The Raptor' and whether she had any experience escaping from the authorities.

"Mr. O'Mara," Nate said, "I guarantee you will never see her again."

=-=-=

_Come close and then even closer  
We bring it in but we go no further  
We're separate, two ghosts in one mirror, no nearer  
_…_And my own two hands will comfort you tonight, tonight  
Say When _by **The Fray**


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **This is the final chapter unless any of you have requests. Thanks to all my readers and a special thanks to those of you who left reviews. I appreciate it SO much!

**Chapter Eleven ~****Never Say Never**

Eliot drove as Loki changed in the back seat. Short, black wig, conservative slacks and button down, comfortable shoes, and a navy windbreaker with DHS on the back. He pulled up in front of Loki's duplex and pulled on a matching windbreaker before getting out.

O'Mara hadn't called off his goons yet. There was one in a black SUV at the end of the block watching them.

They grabbed the cardboard boxes from the trunk and entered her duplex. They moved methodically through the duplex; she'd select items and he'd box it up. They worked without talking, listening through their earpieces what the rest of the team was doing.

Nate, Hardison, and Parker dropped O'Mara off at his home, promising he would never hear from 'The Raptor' or the Department of Homeland Security again. Then they swung by Hardison's loft and with Sophie's help locked everything down and loaded up the van. Then the foursome donned navy DHS windbreakers and joined Eliot and Loki at the duplex.

They quickly packed the boxes into the van, and Eliot and Loki climbed back into the car. They drove into the northwest suburbs to the private airfield where the company jet was waiting. They loaded up and were in the air a little after 1:00 am.

They celebrated with beer and Loki's favorite pizza. She thanked them again, and then discretely made her way to a seat at the back of the cabin. She reclined the seat, wrapped up in a blanket, and appeared to go to sleep.

When the work talk ended, Eliot grabbed two more beers and moved to the seat next to Loki. "I know you're not asleep," he said.

She opened her eyes a fraction. "What makes you think that?"

"I know how your head works," he said, tapping a bottle lightly on her forehead. "It's going a mile a minute right now. You couldn't sleep if you wanted to."

She sat up, and took the bottle from him. "You're finally getting it, aren't you Cowboy?"

He looked into her eyes, not sure where she was going. "Uh… maybe…"

She smiled. "Ever since Montana you've been saying that you don't know me, but you really do." She paused, watching his face carefully. "You may not know my entire history or my real name, but you know **me**. You always have."

He thought back over their history and began to see it. "That night in Murmansk… you were there under a cover…"

"But I had no need to play that cover with you."

"In Montana… another cover…"

"But that was to protect me from my employers, not from you."

"It was you all the time," he said, overwhelmed by the truth and the simplicity of it.

"Yeah," she smiled.

And gradually, as they stared at each other, everything else slipped away. Sounds and colors faded until his full attention was on her face… her eyes… her lips.

He wanted her so badly at that moment, it was physically painful. He had to force himself to keep from touching her. A sudden loud outburst from Hardison helped.

"You're coming home with me," he said.

Her green eyes were hazy with what he interpreted as desire. She wet her lips purposefully. "I can get a hotel room."

He shook his head. "I've waited for this for four years. You're coming home with me," he said in his most commanding tone.

She stared at him for a moment, and then gave him a sexy smile. "Whatever you want, Cowboy."

He stared at her for a few moments, then said, "You know what I want right now?"

"Mmmmm, I'm imagining it…"

He gave a brief shake of his head. "I want to know your name. Your **real** name."

She smiled again and said, "Jocelyn… Jocelyn Wayland."

"Jocelyn," he repeated, liking the way it felt on his lips and tongue. He ran his eyes over her, putting her into the new context. He brought his eyes to rest on her eyes. "That sounds… right."

=-=-=

_Picture you're the queen of everything  
As far as the eye can see  
Under your command  
I will be your guardian  
When all is crumbling  
Steady your hand  
Don't let me go…  
Never Say Never by _**The Fray**

**

* * *

  
**

**Author's Note: **This Epilogue is for **Raine44354**. It may not have been a true "request", but the review said 'I want Eliot to kick his ** SO bad!'. Since the final chapter was so short, I thought I could easily add this on. But, read at your own risk… I didn't spend a lot of time editing it. (Fight scenes are a challenge for me and take a lot of time for me to write and edit. And I really wanted to get this posted ASAP.)

**Epilogue ~ Dangerous Game**

Master Mitch Walker recognized him immediately. The first words out of his mouth were, "Is Melissa okay?"

Melissa Shaw. The cover identity Jocelyn had used in Chicago.

She was better than okay. But she would be pissed as hell if she knew what he was doing.

It didn't take much to convince Walker. He didn't seem surprised when Eliot told him what Melissa had endured. Eliot expected some resistance at his request – it went against the principles that Walker taught. But after a brief deliberation, Walker agreed. With one condition:

"You make sure he never comes back to this dojang."

O'Mara also recognized him immediately. The first words out of his mouth were, "I held up my end of the bargain…!"

Eliot took a relaxed fighting stance and then started a series of alternating axe kicks. He had borrowed a dobok – a white uniform used by most Tae Kwon Do schools -- from Walker, and took a moment to enjoy the freedom of movement. It was a luxury he didn't have when fighting in jeans or cargo pants.

"Yeah, you're a model citizen," Eliot sniped.

O'Mara stared at him. "What do you want from me?"

_A pound of flesh, you prick._ Eliot moved from the axe kicks into a hurricane kick – an outside crescent kick followed by a jumping-spinning inside crescent kick. He rarely bothered with jumping or spinning kicks. They took more time and energy than he usually had available in a spontaneous fight. But damn, they were impressive looking… and fun.

He strung several hurricanes together and quickly closed the distance between them. He stopped a couple of feet from O'Mara. "I'm here for training. Just like you."

O'Mara gave him a doubtful look. "You expect me to believe that you showing up here is just a coincidence?"

"Walker's got the best rep in Chicago," Eliot said. "I'm here because of him, not you."

O'Mara studied Eliot's face, obviously still skeptical. "Where is Walker?" he asked.

"Got called away. Personal emergency," Eliot replied. "Asked if I could fill in for him."

"With me?" O'Mara snapped. "During my personal training?"

Eliot nodded. "He said you guys were just sparring today. He figured I was qualified enough."

O'Mara looked purposely at Eliot's waist where there was no belt. "What rank are you?"

"I'm not big on the whole ranking thing," Eliot replied.

"Aye, and apparently you aren't big on sparring gear either?" O'Mara asked.

"Nope."

O'Mara's hesitated, then said, "I'm testing for my black belt next weekend."

"Good for you," Eliot said flatly.

"I'm just saying that I don't want to get injured so close to my test," O'Mara sputtered. "That's the only reason why I'm going to wear gear."

"Yeah, whatever."

Eliot watched as O'Mara walked to the chairs along the back of the dojang, and dropped his duffle bag. O'Mara opened up the bag and started pulling out gear.

While he watched O'Mara pull on pads, Eliot continued to warm up with light kicks, punches, and stretches. Warming up was another luxury he rarely experienced. It was nice. So was the anticipation of kicking that smug pretty boy's ass.

After a few moments, O'Mara approached him covered in pads from head to toe. He was holding a chest protector against his torso. O'Mara said something but Eliot couldn't understand it around the mouth guard O'Mara was chewing on.

"What?"

O'Mara gave an exasperated frown, turned around and pointed over his shoulder at the nylon straps dangling free on his back.

"Seriously?" Eliot snapped. O'Mara just waved an impatient hand. Eliot gritted his teeth and reluctantly went to work threading the straps through the loops. He pulled the straps tight, tied them off, and secured the Velcro across O'Mara's lower back.

"Ready now?" Eliot asked as O'Mara turned around.

O'Mara shook his head and removed the mouth guard. "Give me a minute to stretch."

"Yeah, sure," Eliot said, crossing his arms over his chest and parking his eyes on the other man. He watched as O'Mara lowered himself to the floor and started stretching his legs. As he watched, Eliot thought back to the warehouse – back to what Jocelyn had looked like when he found her and the bruises he discovered later. He thought about the details that she had reluctantly shared with him, and he let his anger build in his stomach and seep into his chest.

It was obvious O'Mara was uncomfortable under his stare. He attempted to fill the awkward silence, "I haven't seen you here before. You been training with Walker very long?"

Eliot shook his head. "Couple of weeks."

"Where did you study before that?"

"Mostly on the job training," Eliot said.

O'Mara nodded and then looked away. Another couple of minutes of awkward silence and stretching, and O'Mara came to his feet. He looked at Eliot as he stretched his arms across his chest.

"How is she?" he asked softly.

Eliot was caught off guard by the question and the emotion he heard in O'Mara's voice. He stepped closer. "Beg your pardon?"

O'Mara squared up to him. "How is Melissa?" he asked with a fuller voice.

Eliot hesitated. He hadn't planned on this much conversation. "That's classified."

O'Mara frowned. "Is she still alive? Is she well?"

"Do you honestly care?" Eliot said without thought.

"Of course I care," O'Mara replied. "I love her. I was going to marry her."

Eliot frowned. "Come on, I saw what you did to her. That's not love," he growled.

What little color O'Mara had drained from his face. "What do you mean?"

Eliot let his hands fall to his sides. "The bruises all over her body. She eventually told us how she got them."

O'Mara hesitated. "And she said I gave them to her?"

"She _said_ you paid somebody else to do it. Not even man enough to face her yourself…" Eliot slid forward and landed a half-assed side kick in the middle of O'Mara's chest protector. O'Mara swayed and then stepped back into a fighting stance.

"She's an assassin!" O'Mara objected. "She deserves worse than that."

Eliot felt his anger burn into his muscles. He continued to slide forward snapping kicks into O'Mara's pad. O'Mara countered with half-hearted blocks.

Eliot struggled to keep his voice even. "You say that now. But at the time she was just your fiancée." Eliot ended his attack with a jumping front snap kick that while not full contact was enough to send O'Mara down on his butt on the mat.

O'Mara locked eyes with him as he came to his knees. "Why the hell do you care?" he snapped.

Eliot let his distaste show on his face. "I have no tolerance for men who knock around their girlfriends."

O'Mara threw his mouth guard onto the mat and shot a leg out at Eliot in a roundhouse kick to the ribs. Eliot had plenty of time to block it or sidestep it but he moved only enough to keep O'Mara from breaking the ribs. He took the kick with a smile. The pain was the perfect complement to his anger. It felt like home.

O'Mara made the mistake of landing flat-footed, his hands held loosely near his waist. Eliot punched him full force in the solar plexus. Despite the chest protector, the punch did some damage. O'Mara's body seemed to collapse around Eliot's fist, and Eliot felt hot air in his face as it was driven out of O'Mara's lungs.

O'Mara stumbled backwards, gasping. Eliot held his ground as O'Mara sucked air. O'Mara's face gradually reddened as his breath returned. He lunged at Eliot suddenly, throwing a kick at his groin area.

Eliot stepped backwards; O'Mara continued to advance on him. "Going below the belt so soon?" Eliot said with a smug smile.

O'Mara's face continued to darken as he threw several punches at Eliot's face. Eliot dodged them and spun around landing a full contact back fist into O'Mara's foam head gear.

O'Mara went down on his knees and Eliot stepped backwards. "Guys like you make me sick," he spat. O'Mara slowly came to his feet, glaring at Eliot. "Exerting power over the defenseless…"

"She was far from defenseless…!"

"Right! That's why you used drugs and guns! Chained her to a pole and beat the hell out her with a pipe!"

An odd look came over O'Mara's face. He stared at Eliot for a moment and then exploded, attacking Eliot, throwing a mix of kicks and punches. Eliot blocked the first punch but took a vicious roundhouse kick in the jaw. His head snapped to the side and he felt O'Mara's fist drive into his abdomen like a sledge hammer.

Eliot stumbled back and felt the blood starting to trickle down his chin. He gasped for air, waiting for O'Mara to follow him. When O'Mara lunged, Eliot jumped in the air and put a powerful spinning back kick in O'Mara's face.

Eliot landed and watched with satisfaction as O'Mara fell backwards. O'Mara made a satisfying thud as he landed hard on the mat on his back. O'Mara groaned and Eliot smiled. "Not giving up already, are you?" Eliot needled.

O'Mara rolled to his side and pushed up. He wobbled as he came to his feet. He turned to face Eliot again with a dazed look on his face.

"Why would she tell you all that?" he yelled.

Eliot's stomach twisted, worried suddenly that he may have given too much away.

He did his best to play it off, tilting his head as if he were thinking about it. He shrugged, "Maybe because it was something she could talk about without incriminating herself. Maybe because she was trying to keep us focused on you instead of her. But probably because she thought she could get our sympathy."

"It obviously worked," O'Mara spat. "Here you are defending her."

Eliot's stomach twisted some more. He shook his head. "I'm just doing Walker a favor. **You're** the one that brought her into it."

They stared at each other for several moments, both breathing hard. Finally Eliot said, "You gonna fight me or continue with the therapy session?"

O'Mara grabbed his head gear angrily, pulled it off, and tossed toward his duffle bag. He rushed Eliot like a defensive lineman taking down the quarterback. He wrapped arms around Eliot waist, pinning his arms to his side and pushed him backwards. Eliot was unable to get his footing until O'Mara slammed him against the mirrors that covered one wall of the dojang.

The impact loosened O'Mara's arms and Eliot took advantage of it. He bent his knees and lowered his center as he brought his elbows up forcefully. He easily broke O'Mara's grip. Eliot saw O'Mara's right hand rocketing toward his face and he dropped to his knees. He heard the mirror spiderweb where O'Mara's padded fist made contact.

Eliot leaned back on his hands and swung his right leg around in a sweep. O'Mara fell backwards, away from the mirrors, and landed on his back. Eliot brought his right leg up and over O'Mara's body with the intention of slamming his heel into O'Mara's face, but O'Mara rolled away from him and quickly came to his feet.

Eliot spun away in the opposite direction and moved smoothly from his hands and feet to his knees and then to standing. He turned to face O'Mara and brushed his hair out of his face.

O'Mara came at him again, bringing up his leg in axe kick when he was within range. Eliot threw up both his forearms to block him. He successfully blocked the powerful kick, but was unable to stop the punch O'Mara threw at his face. Eliot's head snapped with the impact and he immediately felt blood start to trickle into his sinuses.

He brought his face back around just in time to stop O'Mara's follow up punch. With his right arm, he knocked O'Mara's fist away as he simultaneously threw a punch with his left hand right into O'Mara's nose.

O'Mara stepped back, and Eliot was hoping that the pretty boy was going to whine about his now broken nose, but he didn't. So Eliot followed up with a full force front-snap kick to the solar plexus. O'Mara sucked air and took another step back, and Eliot followed him.

Eliot had to admit he was getting tired. Since O'Mara was wearing pads and he wasn't he had to exert twice the effort to get the same effect. Eliot needed to end the fight soon.

Breathing hard, Eliot continued to pursue O'Mara. He drove O'Mara back with a sliding side kick and then threw what he hoped would be a knock out punch towards O'Mara's face.

But O'Mara was ready for him. O'Mara blocked the punch and then wrapped his arm around Eliot's, in effect locking him in place. Then before Eliot could even think about defense, O'Mara brought down his long leg in an axe kick over Eliot's left shoulder. When O'Mara's heel made contact with Eliot's collarbone, the snap was loud enough for both men to hear. Eliot felt the flare of pain and sucked in a breath.

His knees gave out under the sudden pain, and if O'Mara hadn't been holding him upright, he would have hit the mat.

O'Mara stopped, looked in Eliot's eyes, and gave him a smug smirk. The he powered a front snap kick into Eliot's abdomen and as Eliot doubled over, O'Mara sunk an uppercut into Eliot's chin.

Eliot went airborne and O'Mara let go of his arm. He landed hard on his back, the pain in his collarbone flaring and the air being forced out of his lungs. He heard O'Mara approaching and rolled away from him. Each turn ground his fractured collarbone causing new levels of pain.

O'Mara laughed as Eliot staggered to his feet and turned to face him. "I think we're done," O'Mara said with a smile. "You need medical attention."

The only mark on O'Mara was his broken nose, trickling a small bit of blood. Eliot, on the other hand could feel his face swelling, his collarbone throbbed with every breath, and there was twice as much blood on his face, filling his sinuses and mouth.

Eliot wiped the sleeve of the dobok across his nose and chin, looked down at the result and then smiled at O'Mara. "I thought we were just getting warmed up."

The smile slid off O'Mara's once pretty face. Eliot attacked. He moved into O'Mara with a flurry of kicks and punches, pushing O'Mara back until they had covered the entire length of the dojang. Then he put everything he had into one last jumping sidekick.

O'Mara landed on his back, but Eliot stayed close. He fought the smile as he watched O'Mara snap back to his feet Jackie Chan style. Before O'Mara reached his full height and was still unsteady, Eliot threw a hook kick at O'Mara's head.

O'Mara's head snapped viciously to the side and his body followed. He stumbled away from Eliot until he hit the wall. Then he slowly slid down the wall, and crumpled to the floor.

Eliot moved swiftly to him, and dropped down on top of him with his left knee drilling into O'Mara's right shoulder, pinning him to the ground. O'Mara gave a satisfying groan. Eliot leaned over, grabbed O'Mara's short hair, and pulled his face up.

"**Now**, we're done," Eliot growled.

O'Mara gave a strangled laugh. "Done for today maybe…" he breathed.

Eliot pulled harder on O'Mara's head. "Is that a threat?"

O'Mara attempted another laugh. "Tell _The Raptor_ that I look forward to seeing her again."

Eliot's heart seized and his mouth went dry. His mind spun with responses, but none of them were adequate enough to undo the harm he'd already done. O'Mara continued with an uneven laugh that went right to Eliot's bones.

"You must have some brain damage," Eliot said finally, "because you're not making any sense."

He slammed pretty boy's face into the mat, pushed forcefully off his body and took a step back. He waited for O'Mara to get up, but O'Mara just laid on the mat, his eyes glassy and breathing heavily.

"I'll tell you one thing…" Eliot said, "You definitely don't have what it takes to be a black belt at this school. I mean, your fighting is adequate, but your attitude sucks. Black belts don't go around beating up their girlfriends." He paused and then added, "And, oh yeah, Walker wants you out. If you ever come back to this gym, it'll be round two for me and you… and **no** pads."

Eliot took a deep breath, feeling the pain, the fatigue, and a new kind of worry for Jocelyn. He felt an overwhelming need to kill O'Mara right there, but knew that would bring all kind of hell down on Walker. Jocelyn would never forgive him.

With one last glare at O'Mara, Eliot headed for the door to the locker room.

=-=-=

_What will we do, what will we say  
When it's the end of this game that we play  
Will we crumble into the dust, my friend  
Or will we start this game over again  
Dangerous Game _by 3 Doors Down


End file.
